H & T Prank the Multiverse
by Steve2
Summary: Harry Potter (Potterverse) and Taylor Hebert (Wormverse) each had one thing in common: they were killed much too early in their lives. Yes, they died. And met each other on the "other side" where they were offered jobs. As usual, nothing goes according to plan.
1. Chapter 1: Multiverse Job Offers

Chapter 1: Multiverse Job Offers – Are You F-ing Serious?

 **By Steve2**

 **Author's Note:**

Many, many years ago I enjoyed reading Daria fanfiction. As Daria fanfiction was based off a TV show, stories were written without normal book structure. It was a fun way to read a story, since an assumption was made that the readers would already visually fill in the background settings mentally as they had likely seen the show. I've always remembered that simplified style and for this story I thought I would give it a shot and go for a story told almost entirely by dialog.

This story has a minimalist approach to anything non-dialog related. Please let me know if this hits the mark, or if you, the reader, are turned off by this style. I can always modify it.

 **-oo0oo-**

 **In another time, another place…**

A young man was escorted to a private compartment on a train. He was dazed and didn't track everything like he normally would have. Others were also seated in other compartments around him. They did not look his way at all and as long as they were on the train, they did not blink or move.

In another part of the massive train station that was eerily silent even though thousands upon thousands of people were being escorted onto the train, a young woman of similar age to the young man was escorted to a private compartment in a car far removed from the young man.

Soon after she was seated, the massive train left the station, its thousand cars clattering behind the engine. Both the young man and young woman were woozy, but as the train picked up speed through the ethereal whiteness, they each gained lucidity and looked around.

Young man (mutters to himself): Glad I have a private compartment and don't have to sit with all those weirdos.

Young woman (mutters to herself): Wonder if this compartment has any curtains? Last thing I want is to have all those naked people sitting out there looking in at me with those creepy blank expressions.

A few more "miles" out from the train station, they each had that light-bulb moment.

Young woman (to self): Aw shit. I'm on a train to Hell, aren't I?

Young man (to self): Figures this is the train to Hell after all the people I got killed.

Young woman (to self): Well, at least I'm headed to the right place considering all the horrible things I did with my life. Must be in the VIP section since I totally screwed the pooch with my life.

After realization came to each that they were on a psychic train ride to a metaphysical location filled with flames and freezing temperatures, depending on the literature read, they each looked around their compartments for something to read. After all, neither knew how long it would take to reach the end of the line.

Stuffed under a seat, the young woman found seven books. She read the titles and they all had the same first four words followed by something else. They were: Harry Potter and the… She had not heard of these books, and since she had the time, she began to read.

The young man also looked under the seats, but found nothing. He then looked between the seats and found a tablet. It was one of those fancy things he could never touch lest he accidentally destroy it. But this one was different. It was powered on, he could touch it without it sparking out, and it had only one thing he could press with his finger. It was an icon called: Worm. He pressed the icon and a story displayed. He had never heard of this story, but since he had the time, he began to read.

Time slipped by. Neither the young man nor the young woman were aware of how much time, as they were engrossed in the stories they were reading. However, each was very upset with the endings they had read. Not entirely due to the content either. True, many people lived and died in their stories, but the young woman was upset as all the pages after the character Harry Potter had seemingly killed Voldemort had been torn out of the book. She could not read how the story ended. The young man was upset as all the text on the tablet after the scene in which someone shot Taylor in the head had garbled and he could not read what happened to her. He smacked the tabled to "shake" the text loose but all that did was cause the screen to wink out and he could not power it up again.

A conductor opened each of their doors and said their stop was next, to get ready, and to mind the steps when exiting the train. They descended the steps on the stopped train and noticed the platform was not very busy. The young man saw a young woman step down from a train car a bit away and be approached by someone carrying a sign. A similar sign, he suspected, of the elderly man approaching him. That sign read: HARRY POTTER.

Harry: I'm Harry Potter. Can I help you?

Elderly man: Yes sir. I am here to escort you to your next stop. Do you require any assistance?

Harry: No, sir.

Elderly man: Then let us be on our way. This way, young man.

Harry and the elderly gentleman left the train station. Approximately 200 meters away, the young woman noticed the elderly lady with the sign, which read: TAYLOR HEBERT.

Taylor: I'm Taylor Hebert. Do I know you?

Elderly lady: No, miss. I am simply here to escort you to your next stop. Are you able to walk?

Taylor: Oh, uh, yes, I can walk. Was there a possibility I couldn't walk?

Elderly lady: It happens sometimes, miss. When I pick up others from the train station. Best to ask up front I always say.

Taylor: Okay.

Elderly lady: We should be on our way, miss. This way if you please.

Taylor and the elderly lady left the train station.

Several hundred meters away, Harry walked next to the quiet elderly man.

Harry: Could you tell me where we are going?

Elderly man: Of course, sir. We are headed to that building over there.

The building in question was a massive skyscraper easily higher than it should be as Harry saw no end in sight to its height. It was about as wide as most large buildings in a city, meaning it was about as wide as it was thick as a half-city block. The building was also the only building the white mist they stepped into after leaving the train station.

Taylor had the same question and same response from her escort.

Taylor: That is a large building.

Elderly lady: Yes, miss.

Taylor: What happens in that building?

Elderly lady: Bureaucracy, miss.

Taylor (mutters to self): This must be Hell.

 **-oo0oo-**

Harry entered a small office on the 37,809th floor. There was an equally small waiting room with four chairs, two against each wall. Next to the door was a ticket machine and he pulled a tab. It said "6". On the wall was a dull red electronic sign that stated: "Now Serving: 5". A receptionist sat at a desk blocking his view of the window. That was fine since all he could see was white mist. A coffee table in the middle of the waiting area had magazines on it. Harry sat down.

Taylor entered the same small office on the 37,809th floor and saw a dark-haired young man sitting in a chair looking at some magazines on a coffee table. She saw the ticket machine, pulled a tab, saw the red electronic sign, and a digital clock on the wall stating it was 11:56. She sat across from the young man so she could also see the magazines. And maybe get an idea why she was here. Or what she should do. A quick glance at the magazines on the table had her thinking of see what other magazines were in the plastic holders attached to the wall by the door they came in.

An unknown number of minutes later, as time seemed to ignore the clock on the wall, the receptionist looked up at the two people sitting in the waiting area.

Receptionist: Mr. Smyth will be a bit longer than expected, I'm afraid. Why don't you two head down the hall across from the elevators you came up in to the cafeteria and have some lunch? Or get something to drink. Feel free to take the magazines you're reading if you like.

With nothing else to do, Harry and Taylor went to the cafeteria, got something to eat and drink and found a table together since there was only one left unoccupied.

Harry: Um, hi. Sorry I didn't introduce myself earlier. My name is Harry Potter.

Taylor: You're kidding, right? The Harry Potter that's a wizard?

Harry: You know me?

Taylor: Never met you before. Read some Harry Potter stories though.

Harry: I heard about those books. It's all fiction. I never lived in a castle in the sky.

Taylor: Yeah, okay. Hi yourself. I'm Taylor Hebert.

Harry: Wait. The Taylor that's Skitter? Weaver?

Taylor: …yeah? Don't take this the wrong way, but this is weird.

Harry: Tell me about it. I'm a wizard and you're a parahuman.

Taylor: So, you are the wizard Harry Potter?

Harry: Yeah. You're right. This is weird.

Their conversation started off stilted but gained momentum as each asked the other about their life, their family, their friends, their school, and their activities to save their people. Harry was curious as to what life was like in Brockton Bay after Leviathan happened. Taylor wanted to know what it really was like with the Dursley's. Harry was curious to know what Taylor and Emma used to do in middle school. Taylor wondered if Harry ever got any action while at school from any of the girls there.

They began a rhythm of questions and answers. Taylor would ask a question and while Harry was answering, Taylor would eat. Then Harry would ask a question and Harry would eat while Taylor supplied the information.

They continued to give overviews and highlights of situations until the end of their lives was in sight.

Taylor: You know, I read your story on the train ride here. I got to the point where you killed Voldemort and then the story just stopped. What happened?

Harry shrugged, and the memory didn't hurt as much as he thought it might.

Harry: I killed Voldemort. His people surrendered. A parade was held. Parties were thrown. I was conned into attending a gala event on my 18th birthday. Lots of people, and someone conked me over the head during all the festivities. I woke up in the Ministry of Magic later. Turns out Rufus Scrimgeour wasn't as dead as I had thought. And it seems he still had friends who all thought I was too dangerous to let live. So a couple of burly chaps grabbed arms and legs each, and chucked me through the Veil of Death.

Taylor: That's pretty cold.

Harry: I thought so too once I remembered it. Hopefully their train ride will take them to Hell.

Taylor: Yeah, hope so.

Harry: I read your story too. Except the ending. What happened on your end?

Taylor: I used my powers to win the war, but not save everyone. Billions died because I wasn't stronger than I was.

Harry: But billions still lived because of you, Taylor.

Taylor: Yeah. But it still felt bitter. Anyway, we won. There was healing done on many people. Not for me. Not at that time at least. Panacea left to take care of someone else. This is when someone else came up to the cot I was on, told me I was too dangerous to let live and shot me before I could do anything. I didn't put up a fight. How could I? That person was right. I had turned into a monster by the end.

Harry: Yeah. I felt I was a monster too. But Taylor? You're not a monster. You did what you needed to in order for your world to survive.

Taylor: I guess.

The two changed subjects and continued talking during the rest of their meal. They cleaned up after themselves and returned to the waiting room. Once seated and looking at the clock on the wall which indicated they had been gone for only an hour, Harry asked Taylor a question that was bothering him.

Harry: Do you think we are in Hell?

Taylor: Not sure. Dad always said bureaucracies were hell to work with, and bureaucrats were the worst, so it is possible.

Harry: If this is Hell, then at least I'm glad to have met you, Taylor.

Taylor: Same to you, sport. You're not so bad yourself.

A few minutes later, the receptionist made an announcement into a microphone.

Receptionist: Now serving number 6. Number 6 please. Mr. Smyth would like to see number 6 in his office. Thank you!

Harry stood. As did Taylor. They compared tickets. They were both a 6. Shrugging, they entered the office. Inside is another small office, a couple hard plastic chairs in front of a desk that has several paper piles that look close to falling over. An average-size man sat behind the desk, looking at some papers in a manila folder. He wore a white button-up shirt, a red tie, and a snarky attitude.

Man: My name is Supervisor Smyth. You are in Purgatory. The Multiverse is real. Any questions so far?

Harry: Well, I would like…

Smyth: Here. This is a Purgatory 101 manual which contains all the afterlife regulations you want to know about and then some.

Smyth handed them each a manual the size of a large phone book with tissue-thin paper and microscopic text on it.

Smyth: You may read this as your leisure. I am here to process your selections. Any questions.

Taylor shook her head in negative as did Harry since he was just as quick on the uptake.

Smyth: Good. My suggestion to you both is: just go with it. It saves getting a headache when you think about things too much. As for your selections, you are both here as you have similar backgrounds. I thought we could do a combo meeting for both of you and save some time. Sound good? Good.

Harry and Taylor each put the massive book given to them under their chairs where they would ignore them later.

Smyth: Both of you have been villains as well as heroes in your lives.

Harry: Well, I wasn't a villain as much as people told I was…

Smyth waved off the comment and Harry stopped speaking.

Smyth: It is immaterial if you actually were a villain or hero at one time. It doesn't matter. What does matter is that the perceptions of others who knew you or knew of you have weight in deciding where you are now. Any way either of you look at it, your souls are in balance and therefore you get to spend some time helping out the living one way or another before going to your final reward.

Harry made to ask something but was cut off.

Smyth: Hold all questions now, thank you. Since you are in Purgatory, you now have options available to you as you will find employment in one of the many various departments here. For example, you can be invisible as well as intangible guardian angels who are assigned to watch over a specific person for a specific time. Doing this allows you to get back to Earth. You will not be able to touch, smell, breathe, or taste anything there, but you will be able to see and hear what is going on there… within the scope of your assigned person to watch over.

Taylor: Will they be able to hear us or see us?

Smyth: They will not be able to see you, and anything you say to them will be interpreted by their emotions into something they understand, if not know where it came from. Now, another department here is being part of a retrieval squad. Sometimes demons, and even angels get an idea in their heads and end up on Earth looking for certain people. We cannot have that happen, so a retrieval squad is dispatched, armed for anything and everything.

Harry: You shoot angels?

Smyth: No. Well, not too bad anyway. Next we have the supernatural police. If something goes amiss, you would need to track down its roots and stop it. Example: a demonic can gets misplaced on a shipment to Earth; it lands in some mortal's hands and next then you know there is a massive street brawl with the number of dead rising. In that case, your job would be to get that can and return it to Hell.

Taylor: How do you know about the can in that example?

Smyth: No clue. Not my department. Next, you can inhabit a mechanical spooky fortune teller that helps young kids with height issues. Or so I heard. Not sure on that one.

Harry: Pass.

Taylor: Me too. Pass.

Smyth: Very well. We have multiverse troubleshooter. You go into situations where something bad is about to happen and diffuse the situation. Example: A Duke is about to marry a Princess when she becomes a monster and he orders her killed, but a troubleshooter ensures that her monstrous "Prince Charming" is able to free himself and save the day.

Taylor: Isn't that from the movie "Shrek"?

Smyth: Moving on. Do either of you have any musical talent? If so we have openings for interspatial musicians.

Harry: No talent.

Taylor: Forget that role. Do you have a list you are working from or anything that we can view?

Smyth (annoyed with them): Here.

He hands them a long document filled with legalese, tiny text, and areas to sign.

Harry: Don't touch that area of the document, Taylor. A fingerprint is all that is needed to execute that particular clause.

Taylor: Harry? You understand this legal jargon?

Harry: Absolutely. It's a snap, really. I've been able to understand legal documents since I could read. Has something to do with being able to speak the serpent tongue, and that lawyers are generally considered serpents in disguise.

Supervisor Smyth looked a little nervous at Harry's comment about reading lawyer-speak. He pushed forward a contract for them to sign.

Smyth: You both need to decide what you want to do as an afterlife career and then get going on that path. My next appointment will be here in a few minutes, so let's not take all day with this.

Harry (still reading): Mm-hmmm.

Smyth: All you need to do is check the career path and sign the final page.

Harry (still reading): Mm-hmmm.

Smyth: If need be, you can just sign the last page and I will pick a role that is suitable for both of you. Trust me. I'll do what is right here.

Harry (still reading): Mm-hmmm.

Taylor noticed Supervisor Smyth looking at his watch and the wall clock several more times, his agitation gaining.

Harry: Supervisor Smyth? There are areas next to each job definition with an Official Use tag, but no instructions. What are they used for?

Smyth: Those blank areas are for any additional items that need to be put into effect for the person in the job they select, such as the ability for an afterlife-individual to be able to speak a specific language in order for them to do what they need to and so forth. This is typically filled in by a supervisor such as myself.

Harry: Understood.

Harry nodded and continued reading.

Supervisor Smyth's phone rang and he answered it.

Smyth: I'm in the middle of a meeting… what? When? How bad? What about the other person? Uh-huh. I'll be right there. (Hangs up phone.) I have to take care of a personal issue. I will return in a few minutes. I'll need your decision when I return.

Smyth rushed out of the office. Taylor stopped fake-reading the legal contract and instead looked over the top of Smyth's desk. A few minutes later she nodded and returned to Harry's side.

Harry: You find anything?

Taylor: Yep. His desk calendar shows an early appointment with someone.

Harry: Not surprised. He wants us out of here fast.

Taylor: Agreed. Something tells me he wanted to get people in and out today so he had time to get all purtied up to meet someone for a date.

Harry: Taylor, we're in Purgatory.

Taylor: True. But who is to say you can't go on a date in Purgatory? I mean, he rushed out of here to take care of his car being dinged in a parking garage of all things.

Harry: How did you know that?

Taylor: Because I am used to being sneaky and listened in on his conversation. His car got dinged. Probably scratched or something and he wanted to make sure it was all fine before he went out on his date.

Harry smiled. He then gave her the very quick summation of all the jobs listed on the document provided.

Harry: I tell you, all these jobs… For the most part, they stink. But what can we do? We didn't get a good deal when we were alive, and we sure as Hell aren't getting anything good now that we are dead.

Taylor: You got that right. But what sounds good? You heard him. We don't pick something, then someone will pick for us.

Harry: Anything sound interesting?

Taylor: I sure can't see myself being some kid's guardian angel, so I'm thinking more of the multiverse troubleshooter.

Harry: I was thinking that myself. And if we both do that, then we may be allowed to work together. Something I would not regret as I could really use a friend these days.

Taylor smiled and ruffled his hair.

Harry: However, if we are going to be multiverse troubleshooters, I think we should have every advantage we can think of, don't you agree?

Taylor: Absolutely. Smyth has been gone for a few minutes now. Figure we have about 20 minutes total before he is back. Sound good?

Harry: Agreed. Let's see what kind of abilities we can put in the margins. After all, I didn't hear him say we _couldn't_ write any of it in ourselves.

Harry and Taylor brainstormed and wrote down everything they could think of in the Official Use only area next to multiverse troubleshooter. Some ideas were specific and others generic. But Harry wrote furiously in the margins while Taylor ticked off abilities she knew capes in her world had. Taylor also looked out the door every minute to see if Smyth was on his way back.

Finally, Harry's keen snake-sense told him the contract was filled out well enough to pass cursory inspection. He had Taylor initial and sign and once done, he initialed and signed in the appropriate places.

Contract finished, they tidied up the area, pulled the massive tomes from under their chairs and began reading. Time elapsed: 22 minutes. It was another five minutes before Smyth rushed back in, flushed and out of breath.

Smyth: My apologies for that unexpected event. Have you two made a decision yet?

Taylor: We have. We have each selected the multiverse troubleshooter role.

Harry: And we have checked the appropriate boxes, initialed the appropriate pages, and signed in the appropriate places, each countersigning as a witness to one another.

Supervisor Smyth nodded in satisfaction and began to thumb through the contract when a voice spoke over his phone's speaker.

Receptionist (via phone speaker): Mr. Smyth? Your next appointment is here.

Supervisor Smyth paused, then went to the last page of the contract, noted the signatures, countersigned them, stamped it with an official stamper, and put it into the out-box where it promptly vanished.

Smyth: Good choice. You now need to go to the Multiverse Troubleshooter office. Go out the office, turn left, down the hall to the fifth door on the right. Room 55. You will find out more of what you need to do there. Now if you will excuse me, I have the next person to meet with.

Harry and Taylor put the massive books down, shook Smyth's hand, and left his office. They went to the office they were directed to and knocked on the frosted-glass paneled door.

Voice: Enter!

Harry and Taylor entered the office. It is sparse with furniture. There was one person sitting at a desk. An old computer monitor took up about a quarter of the desk. There were three uncomfortable plastic chairs against the wall. A fake plant sat in a corner collecting metaphysical dust. There was no window, but a poster of the universe was tacked to the wall. The poster had a red arrow on it with the words: "You are here" in yellow lettering.

A woman about 40-50 years of age stood and extended a hand to each of them.

Woman: I just got your paperwork. My name is Mandy Chipper and I will be your boss. Harry and Taylor is it?

Harry: Yes, ma'am.

Mandy: Oh, feel free to call me Mandy. We are all on the same team here. Do either of you have a nickname you would like to go by, or a different pronunciation of your name I should use?

Harry: Since I understand there is a possibility of meeting myself somewhere out there, I'd just like to go by "H" if I can.

Taylor: And I'd like to go by "T".

Mandy: Not a problem. T and H. Glad your first name wasn't Alex, H. (She and Taylor laughed, while H shook his head in resignation.) Simple and to the point. Got it. You kids get the rundown of what we do here?

H: Somewhat.

Mandy: Likely not enough, I'm sure. I know I didn't have enough when I signed up for this job. So let me give it to you straight. I'm your supervisor. Anything happens in the field you need assistance with, or you want to discuss, please contact me. If management has an issue with your work, they will contact me, and I'll discuss it with you. That does not happen very often, but it has happened. Management really does not like coming to this floor.

T: Sounds like all the big shots I knew back home.

Mandy: I know, right? Also, I will be giving your assignments. You will have a choice of which to select, but likely you will get a backlog that I will monitor and make sure gets done. I have a tendency to micro-manage projects, but not people. You are the field agents. You make the decisions. I just make sure the protoplasmic paperwork gets done. Good so far?

H and T nod that they understood.

Mandy: Now I am happy you are here since we have a lot of assignments to fill.

Mandy motioned with her hand at a stack of paperwork in an IN basket. There were more than just a few.

Mandy: Give me a few minutes to review your paperwork from Smythe.

T and H looked at one another, shrugged their shoulders and sat quietly. A minute later, Mandy whistled in amazement.

Mandy: That is a lot of perks you got with this job. How in the cosmos did you get Supervisor Smythe to sign off on that long list of things you get with this job?

H: He didn't balk at any of it.

T kept her mouth shut.

Mandy shrugged her shoulders as she finished reading the paperwork.

Mandy: Well, good for you getting all those perks. Just glad it's not my afterlife job on the line if things go sour with that power upgrade. Ah well. Time to get to work.

Mandy stood and stretched her arms to get the kinks out of the joints.

Mandy: do you have any questions about the multiverse?

T: I'm cool.

H: I know that other realities exist, but really don't understand it all.

Mandy: Here's the short of it, then. For every decision made, there can be an alternate decision made which can in turn create an alternate universe. That is the classical stance on it and let me tell you, it's a load of crap. If every decision had an equal decision, think of how many alternate universes there would be. Trust me, there may be billions or even trillions of alternate dimensions, but if that piece of logic were to be followed, then there would be quintillions of trillions of billions of universes, with more being built exponentially all the time. Yeah, that's so not happening.

H: So what triggers an alternate universe?

Mandy: A nexus event engaging. For example, you, H, were a nexus event waiting to happen. You dying before Riddle? That was an off-kilter event based off what people around you knew shouldn't have happened. T? Same with you.

T: Are you saying that I should have lived?

Mandy: I'm saying that when you were shot, when you died a new reality formed for the other "you" that lived. Because you were a nexus event personified that people you knew, and others that knew of you wanted you to live.

H: So that's all it is?

Mandy: Oh, no. There is much more to it than that. But believe me, you don't want me to spend the next century explaining things to you. You will need to view it all yourself. Once you've seen a version of yourself in a world that did not exist where you were from originally, things will start to make more sense. Or… now that I think of it, you might just feel like ignoring sense and just going along with everything.

T: Fine. H? Since we're already here, no sense trying to get back to life, eh? Zombie-H want to eat brains!

H: You are so weird, T.

T: Thanks!

Mandy: Okay you two, listen up. Usually a troubleshooter is assigned realities they are familiar with as they will understand situations better. However, T is from a vastly different reality than you are, H. But since you know one another, and seem to get along pretty good, I'd like to keep you together as a troubleshooter team for some of the hot zones.

H: Hot zones?

T: Don't sweat it, H. We're dead, remember?

H: Oh yeah. Hot zones it is!

Mandy: Good. Now while you will be out in the multiverse as troubleshooters, you will likely encounter other versions of yourselves out there. Normally I would just tell you that should that happen, your appearance would morph into someone else and they would never recognize you. And not only would you look like someone completely different, so would your walking, talking, how you smell, and so on. Basically, everything about you would be different so no one would think there are two Harry Potters or two Taylor Heberts in that world. However, you two scamps managed to get the ability to morph your appearance anytime you want power upgrade, so you can look like anyone you want these days. So if I can make a suggestion? Change your appearance before you go into a world.

H: Yeah, okay.

T: Sure.

Mandy pulled out the first assignment from the crowded in-basket.

Mandy: Okay, turns out there is a reality in which an Albus Dumbledore and a Voldemort are in charge of their respective forces and have been pitted in a stalemate battle-footing for about 10 years. Muggles have suffered from that. T, you know what a muggle is? Okay, good. Albus has decided to summon a hero in order to vanquish Voldemort and his armies. Word has reached Voldemort of what Albus is doing and he is in the process of summoning a villain that can vanquish Albus and his armies. Your client is someone wanting to stop the madness.

She looked at the two of them.

Mandy: Interested in being summoned to that world? One hero, one villain? Keep in mind, as a troubleshooter, you do have some leeway in how things get resolved. As long as upper management is happy, then I'm happy.

T: Sounds like fun.

H: I agree.

Mandy pulled the summoning contract out and allowed them to read it.

H: Now I am really happy. This is going to be a fun contract.

T: Agreed. Let's do this one.

H and T go over the contract, make a few notes, talk over a few plans, and sign their names to the contract, handing it back to Mandy. She put it in her out-basket where it vanished.

As did H & T.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Author comments:**

Strangely enough, this H&T story was the original catalyst for another story, Emma's Triggers, that I will begin posting soon. And as I write this, my mind can't help but think of how I can weave all my stories together to find that one common element. It's harder to do with the Daria story, but my mind is thinking about it.

As is, I have a total of 8 chapters in various states of creation for this story, with chapters 1 (this one) done, and 2 (next one) going through editing. The other 6 chapters are well under way. Ish.

Leaving reviews does get me motivated to write more.

And now that the setup is done, on with the show!


	2. Chapter 2: Words Matter

Chapter 2: Words Matter

 **By Steve2**

 **Author's Note:**

Okay, the style format reviews were mixed. Some liked it. Some didn't. Understandable. So now I am amending all chapters going forward. Ha-ha, guess what? Both styles will now be used. You'll see the difference.

As for the story: the setup is done. Harry and Taylor, now H and T, are working together and have a job to do. It is time to find out what it is they are up to and how they get it done.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **In another place, another time…**

 **Location: Hogwarts Great Hall. 12:13am, September 22, 1996.**

In Hogwarts, which had been turned into a fully functioning castle again with thousands of retainers, merchants, students and survivors of countless conflicts taking up nearly all the space and surrounding fields, Albus many-middle-names Dumbledore concluded the summoning ritual. The normal tables were not there. Many people watched from mirror-broadcast as well as from stuffed halls as the white clouds from the summoning dissipated and revealed a great hero.

In the center of the runic circle kneeled a tall, muscular man on one knee. His head down, one arm resting on the knee of the leg not otherwise on the floor. The other arm was outstretched, fingertips resting on the floor for balance. The crowd did not make a sound as they tried to make sense of what they were seeing. The man rose. He did not wear a shirt but wore faded blue jeans. His chest was muscular in a Mr. Universe kind of way, not that the assembled wizards and witches knew what that was. Instead, all the men thought was that this bloke sure did look like he could throw them aside. And all the witches thoughts were of ways this man could throw their husbands aside and take them right then and there.

The man looked around. Clean shaven, roughly six foot, four inches. Dark, short cropped hair, approximate age 24. Dumbledore took all of that in before the man's blazing-red eyes came to rest on him. No pupil, no iris, just a glowing redness.

The glowing-red-eyed man keyed in on Albus and said, "Where am I?"

Albus gulped as he heard the young man's deep baritone voice. "You… you are in the Great Hall of Hogwarts Castle."

"Who are you?"

Albus knew he could listen to that voice all day. "I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. And you are?"

The man's expression matched his answer as he said, "Annoyed."

Albus replied, "Yes, quite. What is your name?" Albus used his wand to remove the rest of the smoke.

"My name is T."

"Tea?"

"Yes," T stated firmly. "Care to tell me why you summoned me?"

"You have been summoned here to perform a great task," Albus started his sales pitch. "One that will allow my fellow witches and wizards to live in peace and harmony for years to come."

"Can you bottom line it for me? Otherwise I'm going to need a chair while you get all preachy."

"Um, quite. I brought you here in order to kill Voldemort's summoned beast. If you don't do it, our land is doomed," Albus summarized.

"That it?" T insisted.

"Not quite. Once you are done with whatever beast Voldemort summoned, you are then to kill the summoner himself, namely Lord Voldemort."

"You think I got the juice to get this done?" T's hands went to the masculine hips she was wearing.

"Juice?" Albus was confused by the term.

"Power," T clarified.

"Oh. Of course. That is the way a powerful summons works."

T looked around the hall and saw herself reflected off one of the four mirrors strategically placed in the Hall. She was wearing a fake body shell of the male she and H decided she would wear. Well, more like H decided she would wear after she saddled a body shell on him.

T's gaze again landed on Albus Dumbledore. "Do you know where you summoned me from?"

"Another world where you had killed your version of a dark lord," he replied. "That too was part of the conditions of the spell."

"Got it in one. I was also resting. And you summoned me here to do your dirty work for you."

"Well, I wouldn't call it dirty work exactly…" Albus hedged.

"I would. So if we are to have an accord for what you want me to do, I will need a contract in place so there is no misunderstanding."

"Fine, fine. Perfectly understandable," Albus nodded sagely. Then muttered to himself, "Even if it is for a ruddy Yank from another dimension. Delightful voice notwithstanding."

Albus pulled out some parchment, a quill and some ink to start writing.

T held up a hand and said, "Don't bother. I have one here in my pocket."

T pulled out a small contract from one of the back jeans pocket, and it suddenly became much more massive.

"You… ah, came prepared?" Albus pointed to the paperwork.

"You won't believe how many times this has happened to me. So yes, I came prepared," T said.

"But you will kill Voldemort's summoned beast, correct?"

T replied, "Yes, I said I would, didn't I?"

Albus motioned the man, T, off the runic array and over to a small table where he began signing with his quill and ink. Part of the contract stipulated that payment would be expected, both a retainer, an up-front fee, and a conclusion fee for any services provided. Albus checked that section and initialed it, later signing the page.

Albus continued signing, glad to have a hero employed to do his dirty work, as it would not do for a Leader of the Light to get his hands dirty.

 **Meanwhile…**

Far to the south, in Stonehenge, Lord Voldemort's summons stood up in the runic circle "she" was in. She was a tall woman with blonde hair, blazing-red eyes, and a 6-pack for an abdomen. Her mid-back length blonde hair was tied in a ponytail, her gaze was piercing, and she wore magical clothes called Spandex that the wizarding world had never seen as they were essentially shut-ins. The magical Spandex was black, covered her from the waist down to mid-thigh, and the top covered her from her neck/shoulder area to just below her breasts. Her mid-riff was visible to all the assembled men, who could not take their eyes off it for some reason. Her eyes glowed red. Not that most of the assembled wizards ever saw her eyes.

H looked around from inside the circle as the smoke cleared. Several mirrors were situated on the monoliths as part of the preparations, and he caught a glimpse of his body-suit shell. Good; the body shell T created for him was still working optimally. After all, he wasn't going to let T win their bet if he could help it.

His scanning of the crowd stopped when it landed on Voldemort himself. "Where am I?" H inquired.

Voldemort, aka: snake-face, aka: Tom Riddle, aka: The Dark Lord answered "Stonehenge, England. My realm."

"Who are you?"

Voldemort raised his chin and smiled a victorious grin. "I am Lord Voldemort, your master. And you are?"

"Annoyed. I'm not into this S&M crap, pal."

Most of the wizards there had no idea what S&M was, but her voice made them want to learn as long as it was with her. They figured she must have been a veela of some sort. Ooohhh, a demonic-veela. Even better.

Voldemort waved off the comment and said, "Yes, indeed. What is your name?"

"My name is H."

"Ech?" Voldemort had never heard of that name.

"Yes."

"Very well, Ech. You have been summoned here to perform a great task. One that will allow my people to live and thrive."

H yawned. "Can you bottom line it for me? Otherwise I'm going to need a chair while you get all preachy."

"Silence!" Voldemort commanded. "I brought you here in order to destroy Albus Dumbledore's summoned beast. If you don't do it, my people are doomed."

"That it?"

Voldemort knew he had this demon in the palm of his hand. "Almost. Once you are done with whatever beast Dumbledore summoned, you are then to kill him as well."

"You think I got the mojo to get this done?"

"Of course. That is the way a powerful summons works."

H cocked "her" head slightly and asked, "Do you know where you summoned me from?"

"Another world where you killed your so-called rival," Voldemort answered dismissively.

"Got it in one. I was also resting. You summoned me here to do your dirty work for you."

"So? What of it? You are stuck in that circle until I release you, and I will not release you until I get what I want." Voldemort could not understand why this demon was being obstinate. None of his Death Eaters ever acted this way.

"Very well. If we are to have an accord for what you want me to do, I will need a contract in place so there is no misunderstanding."

Voldemort agreed to this, and summoned some parchment to start writing.

H said, "Don't bother. I have one here in my pocket."

H pulled out a small contract from a flap in "her" magical Spandex, and it suddenly became massive.

Voldemort's raised a hairless eyebrow and asked, "You… came prepared?"

"You wouldn't believe how many times this has happened to me. So yes, I am always prepared."

"And you will still destroy Dumbledore's summoned hero?"

"Yes. Of course. I said I would, didn't I? But I'm doing to require payment," H pointed out.

"I will gleefully slaughter people to feed you their souls," Voldemort replied, happy to be back in familiar territory.

H shook "her" head. "No, that won't do. I'm not accepting souls these days – the market is down on them."

That caught Voldemort by surprise. "What do you want, then?"

H immediately replied, "The ability to swear openly on everything with no restrictions."

Voldemort paused for a few seconds, as if expecting more. With nothing else mentioned, he said, "That's it? Nothing else?"

"That is it. I like to swear."

"Granted! Ha, ha! Dumbledore is as good as dead now."

 **Meanwhile…**

T summed up the contract with Dumbledore. "Bottom line is, you want me to kill this other summoned being."

"Correct," Albus nodded sagely to the fine young man in front of him as well as showing the rest of those watching through the mirrors he knew what he was doing.

"And then kill this Voldemort chump."

"Correct," Albus nodded again.

"Very well. All conditions are listed and initialed. I now require an up-front payment."

Albus stood to his full height and said, "I cannot in all honesty allow you to take the virginity of any of the maidens here. I will instead offer myself up for your… um… rod of magnificence."

 _Son of a bitch!_ T thought. _H won that part of the bet! Goddammit!_ "So not going to happen, pops."

Albus deflated and said, "Very well. What do you want? I will see you get it." He then muttered, "Please don't be a soul; please don't be a soul."

"I require the ability to swear openly on anything and everything with no restrictions."

Dumbledore paused for a few seconds, as if expecting more. "That's it? Nothing else?"

"That is it. I like to swear."

Albus smiled benevolently and declared, "Granted!" And mentally, he thought, 'Whew, no soul _this_ time.'

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Two days later**

 **Location: Yorkshire Dales National Park, Greenhow Hill, September 22, 1996, 9:22am.**

It was a sunny morning as Albus, T, and several other wizards and witches stood at the base of Greenhow Hill.

"I still think this is a huge mistake," a massively scarred man said. It wasn't the first time he had said it. Not by a long shot. T had learned his name was Moody. The name certainly fit.

"Not now, Alastor," Albus shot back. Again.

Albus put on his benign grandfather smile, approached T, and said, "At the top of the hill you will meet Voldemort's summoned beast per mutual agreement. Are you ready for this?"

T was amped up. "Heck yeah! I feel like destroying something!"

"Then off you go, my boy."

 **Meanwhile…**

On the other side of the hill, Voldemort and his suck-ups stood around H.

Voldemort pointed to the hill and said, "Up there you will meet Dumbledore's summoned being. Kill it. Then kill him. Do you understand?"

"Sure thing. I'm ready to kill something. Kill!"

"Then get moving and do my bidding."

"As you command, master," H added.

Both T and H walked up the hill from opposite directions. The assembled magicals watched from their respective sides. All of them had a front row seat for what was sure to be the magical fight of the century. Mirrors were up for all to see the expressions of the summoned beings. As usual, there was no audio.

T strode towards H who strode towards T, each with a look of determination on the face. They stopped at the top of the hill, about two meters apart from one another.

T's massive male body-shell flexed a few muscles as she asked, "Ready to begin our battle? My contract has been signed."

H worked a few kinks out of his neck and replied, "Same for me with my contract. Yes, let's begin our battle. Looking good, by the way."

"Same to you. Isn't it kind of weird that I can see you within that body-suit of yours, like you have a faint image around you?"

H grinned. "Magic is weird like that."

"Magic is more like bullshit, you know," T challenged.

"It is that. Now I have to _destroy_ you."

"That's convenient since I have to _kill_ you," T replied.

"I'll start first," H said.

"Please do."

H conjured a wooden chair without the assistance of a wand and sat down. Once on the chair, H pat his (her) knees and T took the bait with gusto.

On the two opposing lines, the leaders of the factions saw the female spandex-wearing summoned demon sit in the chair, pat her lap, and the huge muscular chap sit on said lap. This was it, they knew. Voldemort knew the female demon was going to get the male demon into some sort of chokehold and strangle the life out of him and then go for Dumbledore. Albus, however, knew that the large muscular demonic chap was going to outwit the woman demon and destroy it with some form of demonic blast that would turn it into nothing but ash.

T put her bulging masculine arm around H's feminine shoulder and the assembled forces of Light and Dark saw the ripped male demon… appear to giggle. It may even have been a titter. It certainly was not a demonic laugh.

Then…

Voldemort whispered without thinking it, "Choke, choke, choke."

Albus confided to Minerva, "He's going to blast her with demonic fire. I just know it."

T and H stared at one another for 10 seconds, then 20, then 30.

Albus confided to Horace Slughorn, "It must be a battle of mental dominance. He will come out the victor. I'm sure of it."

On the other side of the hill, Voldemort watched as the woman demon's hands were moving without being intercepted by the male demon's hands. This was it. "Choke, choke, choke."

After nearly a minute of looking at one another… they kissed. Passionately.

"He's trying to shove something down her throat," Albus confided in Filius who knew better. He'd been a teacher long enough after all.

"Choke, choke, choke," Voldemort chanted on the other side of the hill, a few of his other Death Eaters having picked up the chant as well.

The large muscular chap squirmed a bit on the woman's lap, and the woman massaged his… uh… shoulders. Yeah, shoulders. They broke their kiss.

The demonic woman then kissed his exposed belly button. This got the demonic chap to giggle some more. It was definitely a giggle, Minerva knew. This continued for another 10 seconds. Abruptly, the two summoned beings stopped, stood, dismissed the chair, and walked slowly back to the sides they originally came from.

At the bottom of the hill where the assembled forces of light and goodness and lollipops gathered, Albus stormed over to T.

"Why didn't you eliminate that summoned demonic woman?!" Albus demanded.

"You hired me to kill that summoned being," T said simply.

"Yes, exactly! Why didn't you?!"

T smiled and said, "I'm killing H with kindness."

 **Meanwhile…**

At the bottom of the hill where the assembled forces of evil, and badness, and porn magazines gathered, Voldemort's expression was furious as he approached H.

"Why didn't you eliminate that summoned man as I ordered you to?!" he barked, his wand in his hand, ready to show his displeasure.

"You hired me to destroy Dumbledore's summoned being," H pointed out.

"Yes, exactly! Why didn't you?!"

"I'm destroying T's reputation," H said simply.

"That's not what I brought you here for!"

"But that's what you agreed to, you fucking piece of rat-infested shit for brains who enjoys fucking over fuck-heads! Now fuck you for being a crap-eating piece of shit and giving shit-ass stupid orders using your fucking inbred brain! In other words, give better instructions, you fucking piece of anal-shit. Fucker."

 **Meanwhile…**

"That's not what I brought you here for!" Albus all but screamed.

T's expression turned savage. "But that's what you agreed to, you fucking piece of shit! It's not my fault you were thinking of fucking goats and who knows what else instead of reading that fucking contract, you prune-faced fucking geezer! Now fuck you for being a crap-eating piece of shit! Why don't you just jam that broom you rode here on up your fucking ass! Fucker."

Albus was stunned at the disrespect and barked, "You can't talk to me like that! I forbid it! I'm the Leader of the Light! You will address me with respect!"

T's grin widened.

 **Meanwhile…**

"You can't talk to me like that!" Voldemort barked, spittle escaping in his fury. "I forbid it! I'm your lord and master here! Without me, you're nothing! You will keep a civil tongue in your mouth when talking to me!"

H grinned victoriously and began to laugh, "her" voice getting louder for all to hear. "Fuck you, dickhead! You just broke the contract. I'm free to take my fucking revenge, you miserly fucker! Adios, fuckface! I'll make sure to collect your atrophied soul last, along with all the parts you stashed around the country. As for the rest of you inbred, cock-sucking, dumb-ass fuckers, I'll be seeing each of you soon. _Real_ soon." H laughed a few more seconds, then faded away.

 **Meanwhile…**

T started to laugh, "his" voice getting louder for all to hear. "Fuck you, dickhead! You just broke the contract. I'm free to take my fucking revenge, you old shit-eating fucker! On you and all your cronies as well! Adios, fuckface! I'll make sure to collect your atrophied soul and mind last. As for the rest of you inbred, shit-faced, stuck-up fuckers, I'll be seeing each of you soon. _Real_ soon." T laughed a few more seconds, then faded away.

 **Meanwhile…**

It would later be revealed that the two leaders of the two opposite factions had the same response at nearly the same time. That response? Albus and Voldemort said, "Oh, shit." It was a natural response since the two both realized how massively they had just screwed up.

 **-oo00oo-**

T & H appeared on a tropical beach, still in their respective body-suits. No one noticed them due mainly that the early morning sun had just risen, and it was a deserted beach as well.

"Where are we now?" T inquired.

"Saint Lucia," H replied, looking for the zipper on his suit.

"Oh, right. I recognize it now. On my world, Leviathan sank it years ago."

"We'll have to find a way to give him a special thanks for that," H mentioned.

"I already have something in mind. But let's get this taken care of first. It's on the side by the way."

"What's on the side?"

"The body-suit zipper," T replied, already unzipping the demonic body shell.

"Oh, right. There it is."

H unzipped his body shell as well and let it fall to the ground. T did the same and once both body shells were stepped out of by each troubleshooter, the shell vanished back to where it came from.

"That feels better," H said, cracking his neck around.

"You said it," T replied, massaging her shoulders.

"Do me a favor?" H asked.

"What?"

"No more body-suits," H suggested.

"Yeah, that didn't go as I thought it would," T responded. "By the way, you won. That asshole Dumbledore hit on me."

"I thought he might."

"What do you want as a prize?" T asked.

"Just no more body-suits," H replied.

"That's it?"

"Sure. Besides, I can't wait to tell Mandy about Albus hitting on you."

"Christ," T winced. "I'd rather give you something so you didn't do that."

"I'll think about it," H grinned.

"H…" T warned.

"We'll talk later. Let's finish up this assignment. Our client is in the manor just around that set of trees up there."

T looked around. "Really? I don't sense it."

"It's magically hidden. Flex your senses to the hidden wavelength."

T flexed her pinkie. "Ooohhh. Sweet. I see it now."

"Not much to look at, but the extra hiding gives it that neon glow."

"True. Ready to meet our client?"

"I guess. It's kind of weird, you know?" H said.

"I kind of do. Wait till it happens to me," T pointed out.

"Right," H smiled.

T&H took hands and vanished…

…and appeared in a teenage boy's bedroom. Specifically, 16-years-old Harry Potter's bedroom.

Harry Potter looked startled as two adults with non-descriptive faces appeared in his room, and he quickly pushed a magazine he was reading under his bed's rumpled blanket. Harry also reached for a wand under the pillow.

"Who are you?" Harry Potter inquired of the two people.

"I'm T. This is H. You Harry Potter?"

Harry whipped his wand out in front of him. He knew he had the advantage, but he couldn't get cocky. "Yeah. How did you get through our wards?"

H grinned. "Those things? Shit, they were easy. Do you mind putting your wand down?"

"Not going to happen," Harry stated. "You broke into my room, through our wards, and you want… what?"

"We have business to talk about with you," T stated.

 _Crap!_ Harry thought. "If it's about _that_ _hole_ in _that boat_ on _that day_ during _that storm_ , then I didn't do it."

"It's not about that," T replied.

"Okay. Well then if it's about _that explosion_ at _that_ _location_ on _that_ _night_ during _that storm_ , or possibly _that next morning_ , then I didn't do it," Harry stated.

"It's not about that either," H replied. H knew he was a troublemaker. It brought a warm feeling to his heart.

"Hmm. Okay, if it's about…"

T interrupted Harry and said, "It's not about anything you may or may not have done before now. It's about something new."

"I didn't do it," Harry immediately said.

"In this case you did," H replied easily.

They weren't going to get him this easy, Harry knew. "Prove it," he said.

"Easy enough," T stated. "Remember making this wish four days ago?"

T pulled a digital recorder from her pocket and pressed the play button. Harry's ethereal voice was heard making a wish. " _I wish something could be done against all that evil in England. It's just not fair. Something's got to be done about it."_

Harry lowered his wand. His brow concentrated and he replied, "Okay, yeah. I remember making that wish. What are you, the wish police?"

"Be glad that we're not," T admonished. "They're a bunch of assholes. No, we're more like independent contractors here to help you with that wish."

Harry's expression turned hopeful as something he hadn't realized was going to happen might actually come true. "Really? You're going to help ensure there's no strike at the paper?"

"What?" H said eloquently.

Harry answered, "You know. The Sun is going to go on strike. No Sun means no page-3 girl. No boobs! That is an evil that just can't be tolerated."

T and H shared a "look" that conveyed more than just a "look". In fact, it conveyed a very quick mental conversation of needing to read the fine print on those contracts more, and a slight change of plans. A few moments later, Harry heard both T and H softly say, "… and break!"

T and H focused their attention back on Harry Potter.

"You do realize what is causing the strike, right?" H wanted to know.

Harry began, "I'd say it was the threat of layoffs exacerbated by low sales brought on by…"

"Wrong!" T snapped. "It was brought on by the stupid magical war in England that is causing this strike."

"And if you want to have the page-3 girl paper not strike, you need to neutralize the magical war participants," H followed up.

"Can't you guys do that?" Harry hoped. "I mean, my parents hauled ass out of England when I was just a year old to escape that crap. Uncle Remus and uncle Sirius came here too. And even though I'm English, I don't know jack about what is going on over there."

"We could neutralize the participants, but that would only be for as long as we are here, and we won't be here much longer. It's, a, um…" H looked for the right word.

"Spiritual thing, you see," T finished. "We're here to help you get your wish granted; not here to do everything for you, you know. Now don't be a lazy shit."

"Okay, okay. I can see that. I guess." Harry couldn't really see it, but he enjoyed his paper.

"Great! Then do we have a contract for you," H started.

"A contract? Really? Let me guess: it'll cost me my soul?" Harry snarked.

T looked crossly at him even if he couldn't see her face that well. "What is it with you wizards and wanting to give away your soul? The market on them is down already, so no soul needed. Instead, we need two things in payment from you."

"What?" Harry wanted to know.

"We need you to swear every day from here on out. The powers you derive are based on you swearing," T said.

"So… if I understand this right, the more I swear, the stronger I will be?" Harry theorized.

H nodded and said, "Correct. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Shit no!" Harry replied.

"Good," T said. "Because the second thing we need as payment is for you to find someone to share this power with."

"Anyone?" Harry's mind had already locked onto who he wanted.

"You got someone in mind?" H wanted to know.

"Fuck yes. Luna Lovegood has been my girlfriend for the last three months since they moved here from England. Said she hated the place."

Harry's bedroom door opened suddenly and a young girl still in her sleepwear came in.

"Did I hear my name?" she asked, a smile on full display.

"Hey, sweet cheeks!" Harry grinned back. "Your ears burning?"

"Shit no. Listening charm I keep in your room."

"You keep a listening charm active in my room?" Harry wasn't sure he liked that.

"Yes," Luna said simply.

"Might I find out why?"

Luna sat on the bed with Harry. "So I could tell when you were looking at those Naughty Witches magazines and do something about it."

"Um… what Naughty Witches magazines?"

"Someone's busted," T grinned.

"You know," Luna said. "The ones under the loose floorboards that are in turn under the area rug. Or the one that's probably still in your bed as you were reading it just five minutes ago."

"How do you know about those magazines?" Harry asked her.

"Who do you think got you that subscription?" Luna pointed out.

"I thought it was Sirius doing his godfather duty," Harry answered.

"Ha! You fucking kill me, Harry. Sirius isn't a total dick most of the time, but he's totally trying to score with my mom these days since my father died."

"Your father died?" H asked.

Luna nodded. "Yes. It happened six years ago when I was nine."

"Shit. Sorry to hear that, sister," T sympathized.

"Thank you. I appreciate that. Although I would appreciate a lot of really cool powers that I can use to have my vengeance on those assholes in England. Especially some fucking bitches who enjoyed themselves a bit much at my expense. I'd really like to show them what nargles can actually do."

"Talk to Harry. He's got the contract," H said.

Harry knew what he had to do instantly. Harry got on a knee and took Luna's hands in his.

"Luna?" Harry began.

"Yes, dear?" Luna answered.

"Would you consent to teaching all those goddamn fuckers in England a lesson with me?" Harry asked.

"Oh, Harry, you say the sweetest fucking things! Of course I will." Luna then leaned forward and kissed him slightly on the lips.

"Okay, kids," H began. "Here's the contract. Unlike what those two shits Albus and Voldemort signed, you get the straight skinny. The more you swear, the more power you gain. Said power is being pulled from both Albus and Voldemort's cores. And considering they both have ways to siphon additional power from all their mentally unthinking followers, you will gain that power as well. As long as you swear. Give it about two days of constant swearing here and you will be as powerful as those asshats in England."

"Give it three days and you will both be more powerful than either of those two dicks," T pointed out. "Then if you want to do something about them, you can. So start swearing. Daily. Lots of swearing."

"Oh, Harry, we could sing the Fuck song," Luna beamed.

"What song?" Harry asked.

"You know, the one that goes like this: Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuccck! Second verse, same as the first!"

"That's the spirit, kids! Keep up the good work," T praised.

"Take your revenge on those assholes and if you ever want to go back to normal powers, just stop swearing. You'll revert fairly quickly. Of course, all the power you collected in your swearing stint will be held in power escrow for you so if you need that power again, just start swearing and it'll be there before you know it. Once you are at a level of power you like, simply swear once a day and you'll be in maintenance mode. Now should you want all of the accumulated power to just go away and never come back, simply tear up the contract. Only you and whoever you choose can tear the contract. Others cannot tear it," H said.

"Neat," Harry grinned.

"Harry!" T again admonished. "What did I say?"

"Oh, sorry. Um… that's fucking serious asskicking neat!" Harry corrected himself.

T nodded approvingly and said, "Much better."

H looked at Harry and said, "You better work on your swearing skills. Get a book or something."

"I'll teach him some new swear words," Luna took Harry's hand in hers.

"You kids do that. Hang out at a bar or something," H suggested.

"Okay, kids," T said. "We have to get back to the office. Call if you need anything."

"Call? How do we fucking call you?" Harry wondered.

H replied, "Hold the contract in front of you and swear at it until someone answers, then ask to talk to either T or H, or both of us. We will get the message."

"That's fucking great!" Luna smiled.

"Have fun kicking those old assholes in their assholes!" T said.

"It sure as shit won't take a miracle to do that," Luna replied with sincerity.

T&H grabbed hands and faded out of one universe…

 **-oo00oo-**

…and returned to the Multiverse office.

H and T noticed two people waiting for them. The first was Mandy, their boss. The other person they did not recognize.

Mandy: H? T? This is Peter, my boss. He wanted to see all three of us about your mission.

Silently, all four went to a larger office than Mandy's. There were several mirrors in the office showing different scenes of their activities just performed on that Earth.

Peter took a TV remote and turned the mirrors off. He then looked at the two field agents.

Peter: How did you get all those powers?

T: We put them in the official area sections of the contract supervisor Smythe had us sign.

Peter: This contract?

It was a copy of the contract H and T had signed. It showed a boatload of extra powers written in the margins. The first three pages had nothing extra on them. However, pages 4-35 had many, many, many extra powers listed. The final two pages had nothing extra on them other than T and H's signatures.

H: That's the one.

Peter: And he was okay with all of that?

H: He never complained about it.

Peter looked at them for a moment.

Peter: He never read it, did he?

H: No, not even once.

T: He left the office and we wrote it all in. Then signed it. Once he returned, he counter-signed and we're here now.

H: Do you need to change the contract?

Peter: Why would I do that? It's not our fault Supervisor Smythe didn't read the contract before signing it. That's his issue with his manager. Let them take the heat for allowing two agents to super-size their power range.

T: You're not mad about this, are you?

Peter: Not even close. About time we got some people who can do the job the way it should be done around here. One question.

H: Yes, sir?

Peter: You planning on pulling these kinds of supernatural shenanigans everywhere we send you?

T&H looked at one another and shrugged shoulders.

T: Pretty much, yeah.

Peter: Okay! Works for me. I'll get some mirror recorders ordered if they are all going to be funny like your first one.

Mandy: So, they're good to go with another job?

Peter: Yes. Have fun and get out of my office, you scamps. I have work to do. Just keep in mind, my door is always open, unless it's closed. Now scram. Some of us have a few gloating calls to make.

Mandy: Gloating, Peter?

Peter: Of course. Gabe's office allowed two of my agents' carte blanche over their power reservoirs. I intend to gloat for as long as I can. Hah-hah! Suckers!

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Author comments:**

The next chapter is well underway. Even though I am going to go back and update with story layout vs. simply dialog layout. It is underway.

Leaving reviews does get me motivated to write more. Just saying…


	3. Chapter 3: Forget Me Not Wormverse 1

Chapter 3: Forget Me Not Wormverse part 1

 **Author's Note:**

H&T are finding out what they have to do for the rest of their existence as Multiverse Troubleshooters. Of course, H and T have a desire to prove themselves (again), and prank as many people as they can (again).

 **-oo00oo-**

H&T walked into their boss, Mandy's, office.

Mandy: Good morning, you two. Have a good evening?

T: I guess.

Mandy: Something wrong?

H: T's miffed that the housing we were each assigned is the same flat.

T: Apartment, H. It's called an apartment.

H: Of course it is, T.

Mandy: You were assigned the same place to live?

T: Yes!

H: That's not it. Go on. Ask her why she's really upset.

Mandy: T? What's going on?

T: One apartment, two bedrooms. And we only have one shared bathroom! Oh, and H hogs the shower.

Mandy types on her computer.

Mandy: One second. Ah. Here it is. You two are listed as partners. Not _work_ partners. Housing Control must've thought you were both related. I can work on getting that switched if you want.

T: Thanks. I'd like that.

H: Sure. Why not. It's not like I was about to have my very first girlfriend in our very first fla… apartment. No, no, don't worry about me. I'll find a way to live without you. Sniff.

T: I'm not buying it, H.

H: Sniff, sob. I think you've broken my heart.

T: I'm still not buying it.

H stopped his fake tears and smiled at his partner… his _work_ partner.

H: Yeah, yeah. I'll find a way to get you to buy it.

Mandy: As much fun as listening to you two banter, we do have some work to get done today. Here. This folder has the highest value assigned at the moment.

H and T accepted the folder and reviewed the content. Minutes later, T looked towards H and he did the same with her.

H: We have to do this. Right now.

T: Thank you, H. Let's get this signed!

Mandy handed them a pen each.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **In another place, another time.**

 **Location: Brockton Bay. Hebert family bathroom. 9:11pm, Sunday, January 30** **th** **, 2011.**

The bathroom was filled with steam from the shower. Taylor Hebert, age 15 was in the shower still thinking about how much she hated Winslow when she heard something. She couldn't be sure, but it seemed like soft, faint voices muttering, or mumbling or something. Was it dad watching a loud show on TV?

She shook her head and ignored it, instead concentrating on what excuse she can come up with to get out of gym. She did not want to go through that again. Not after last week and Sophia's good aim at hitting anyone named Taylor Hebert.

There! She heard those faint voices again! More muttering!

"Hello? Is anyone out there? Dad?"

Those voices sounded closer. She could hear… something. She made out, "…mutter…mumble…mutter… yeah, that'll work… and… break."

"Hello?" Taylor again said, this time a little louder.

She heard nothing in response.

"Great," Taylor groused. "Now I'm hearing things. My day can't get any worse."

She turned the shower off and reached for the towel on the hook outside the curtains. Towel around herself, she whipped the curtain open. The bathroom filled with even more steam. A skinny Taylor Hebert stepped out of the tub, a towel wrapped around her body. She walked up to the mirror over the sink and wiped steam off it with her hand. She saw her reflection. Wet hair, shallow face, sunken eyes, and two mini-versions of herself about four inches tall – one on each shoulder.

The right-shoulder Taylor wore a shape-hugging blue outfit with the letter 'T' on it. That micro-Taylor waved at the bigger Taylor and said, "Hi!"

The left-shoulder Taylor also wore a tight blue outfit with the letter 'H' on it, waved herself, and asked, "How you feeling?"

The big Taylor had one word for this as her eyes nearly bugged out of her head from the sudden, unexpected salutations. "Shit!" she yelled, jumping back a foot and nearly slipping on the floor.

Taylor, T, and H all heard noise as someone began ascending the staircase. "Taylor?!" her father said a bit loudly. "You okay up there?!"

Taylor looked at the still-closed door and replied in a loud tone, "Yes, Dad! Just slipped a bit! I'm fine!"

"Okay. Yell if you need anything!" her father said, the voice lowering in tone as he walked back down the staircase.

"I will!" she responded. Taylor took in a deep breath, held it and turned back towards the mirror. She blinked a few times to get any gunk out of her eyes. It didn't help. The two micro-versions of herself were still on her shoulder. One was even holding onto her ear in the reflection. That was strange as she could not feel any sort of pressure from this smaller Taylor.

"Great," Taylor said to herself. "Now I'm crazy in addition to being friendless."

The right-shoulder T-wearing Taylor replied, "Oh, you're not crazy. Not by a long shot."

The left-shoulder H-wearing Taylor added, "And you're not friendless. You have us!"

Taylor's expression turned sour. "Right. And who are you two supposed to be?"

Right-shoulder Taylor explained with a shit-eating grin, "We're your substitute guardian angels for the day!"

Taylor began combing her hair out. "Substitute guardian… you know, what happened to the regular one since you two are substitutes?"

Left-shoulder Taylor said, "He met with an unfortunate accident on the way to work today. So we jumped in to help out."

Taylor didn't… couldn't believe any of this. "What kind of accident was it?"

Right-shoulder Taylor replied, "One of the lethal varieties if H had let me have my way."

Left-shoulder Taylor put fists on her hips and replied, "Oh, and like what you saddled him with was any better? I mean, he'll be in traction for months as is."

Right-shoulder Taylor angrily replied, "Serves the bastard right. Allowing Taylor to be bullied for as long as he did. And that locker incident? I should have just gone ahead and shivved him."

Left-shoulder Taylor could not believe her ears. "Shivved him? T? Are you serious? That would have brought down a crap load of heat from up top."

Taylor got dressed without removing her towel as substitute guardian angels or not, she was not sure what gender they may have originally been. "Whoa, whoa, time out you two. Now take a minute and explain… what the hell am I saying? I'm talking to miniature versions of myself who are arguing between themselves. It's obvious I'm crazy."

Left-shoulder Taylor held up a finger in thought and supplied, "Or maybe you just might have triggered?"

"I triggered?" Taylor wondered, getting her toothbrush ready.

Right-shoulder Taylor shrugged a bit and said, "Kind of. The locker incident? Yeah, came from that. Oh, and call me T. That asshole on your other shoulder is H."

H stuck "her" tongue out at T, smiled and said, "Love you too, T."

"Let me guess," Taylor speculated. "T for Taylor, and H for Hebert?"

The two mini-Taylors looked at one another, shrugged, and H said, "Sure, let's go with that."

"Fine," Taylor said, between brushes on her teeth. "Now what do you mean I triggered?" And spit!

T summed up the situation by saying, "Locker. Worst day of your life. Trigger event. Ergo, you triggered."

And spit again! "That was weeks ago. Why didn't you guys manifest then?"

"Oh, we're not an aspect of your power. Not in the slightest," H smiled back. "Don't forget to floss."

"What?"

"You need to floss so you don't get cavities," H said.

"Not that!" Taylor groused. "The other thing."

H had a moment of clarity. "Oh! Right. Well, you see, parahumans on this world derive their power from an extraterrestrial known as Scion who is basically slumming as a human. But it's not really a human and doesn't really like humans anyway."

T added, "Nor is it motivated to help people. It basically wants to kill everyone. And will in a few years."

"Oh, shit. I need to do something. _We_ need to do something. We need to tell someone. This is bad. Really bad."

"Here," H said, handing her a paper cup of blue liquid. "Have some mouthwash. As for telling someone, truth is some people already know, and are working towards a solution. That's why you got shoved in that locker. To make you trigger."

Taylor didn't like the sound of that and looked at the two of them in the mirror as she swirled blue liquid in her mouth.

T supplied more by saying, "Then, once you were out of that locker, and out of the hospital, you would have realized you were a cape and what your powers were and began getting things in motion to save the world."

Final spit. "Really?" Taylor asked.

"Yep," H agreed. "But that's not going to happen now since we stepped in. We've already removed that pesky power you got from the locker."

"But…" Taylor began, unsure how to smack some sense into these two substitutes, "not to sound insensitive, but won't I need that power to save the world?"

T shook her head and said, "Not really. See, H and I are going to give you even better powers. Ones that aren't controlled by that awful alien thingy."

"Alien thingy? Is that even a real term?" Taylor's mind was whirling with all the information.

"Sure it is," H said. "As to your new powers, since the alien thingy and its control systems won't be able to predict what you do, you will have a much easier time saving the world. Interested?"

Hell yeah she was. "Well, saving the world sounds like a good thing, if only to see myself getting a driver's license and a car. Maybe."

T fist-pumped. "That's the spirit. Now… want some really cool powers?"

Taylor smiled while standing in the muggy bathroom wearing red and black pajama pants and an old t-shirt. "Hell yeah. What are they? Super strength?"

H shook "her" head and said, "Nope."

"Super speed?" Taylor hoped.

T shook her head and said, "Nope. Better."

Taylor's eyes got big as she asked, "I'm going to be the next Alexandria?"

Another negative shake of head from H. "Nope. Better."

Taylor stood firm in the middle of that bathroom and said, "Okay. Hit me with your best shot. What will my powers be?"

H and T looked at one another, glowed reddish for a moment and smiled at Taylor.

"You now have the power of Forgetting," stated H.

"And you have the power of Remembering," finished T.

Taylor waited for another few seconds, anticipating more. Finally, she said, "That's it?"

T nodded and smiled. "Yep. Pretty cool, eh?"

Taylor sounded a little dejected as she said, "I'm not going to be able to fly?"

H grinned from her shoulder and suggested, "Well, maybe you should look at yourself in the mirror and remember how you used to fly?"

"I've never been able to fly," Taylor stated firmly.

"You sure? Maybe you simply forgot how some time back," H thought loudly.

T made a shooing motion and said, "Go on. Give it a shot. Just look at yourself and remember what it was like to fly."

Taylor, who wasn't entirely sure she wasn't crazy, did as instructed, although unsure about it. She looked at herself, squeezed her fists, and was startled to recall that she did indeed know how to fly like Alexandria. Looking down, Taylor noticed herself hovering off the floor. She stayed that way for a moment, her smile not going away, before lowering herself back down.

"This is so cool!" Taylor gushed.

T had that Hebert smug look down and said, "Told you. And it gets better. Want us to explain what forgetting and remembering can do?"

"Hell yeah!" Taylor said enthusiastically.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Brockton Bay. Winslow High School parking lot. 7:11am, Monday, January 31** **st** **, 2011.**

Danny Hebert pulled his car into a drop-off spot at the school. It was early, but other parents were dropping their kids off as well.

"Thanks for the lift, dad. See you at 3? You still picking me up?" Taylor grabbed her backpack. Better than that, Danny knew, she was smiling again.

"Absolutely," Danny replied. "You seem to be in better spirits these days," he observed.

Taylor opened the door and got out. "Yeah. Finally looking forward to going to school again."

"No more bullying finally?" Danny hoped.

Taylor grinned and said, "It's not a problem anymore."

"Good. Let me know if that changes."

"Will do. See you later." She shut the door and headed for the drab school.

Inside the drab school, Taylor was soon in front of her locker. Unsure if it was really going to work, Taylor placed her hand on the metal panel as she made the locker remember it still had her mother's flue inside. She opened the locker. Her mother's flute was there. She picked it up, looked it over while keeping anyone else from seeing what it was, and remembered her mother.

She was unsure how long she stood like that, but she immediately put it back and closed the locker when she heard familiar voices.

"Hey, Taylor," Emma sneered. "I hear that the school druggies are looking for you. Word is they're upset you're not putting out enough for them."

"Hebert's here?" Madison made a show of looking for her. "Oh, there she is. She dresses like a druggie these days so I thought this was someone else."

Sophia, however, moved right into her personal space and spat, "Why do you even come to school, you loser? Why don't you just up and die?"

Taylor already had a game plan and replied, "Wow. I can barely hear any of you. Did you forget how to speak normally and are speaking softly today? What? What's that? Did you three say something?"

Sophia pushed Taylor against her locker. "Fuck you, Hebert."

"I'm still having trouble hearing you," Taylor bit back a snarl. Taylor pushed back and pushed her way through Emma and Madison. The first bell rang.

"You three should get to class. Try to speak up next time, will you?"

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Mr. Gladly's (call me Mr. G) World Issues class, Winslow High School. 10:11am, Monday, January 31** **st** **, 2011.**

Later that morning Taylor sat at her usual desk as Madison and Emma sat down near the back in Mr. Gladly's class without saying anything to any of their friends. The class bell rang and Mr. Gladly moved to the front of the class. A patented cool-guy smile (he hoped) in place, he began the day's discussion.

"Okay, class," Mr. Gladly began. "Let's continue from last week. Who can tell me what the defining factor was in the 20th century? Madison?"

Madison looked startled to be called upon when she didn't want to be and shook her head negatively without saying anything.

"I'm sure you'll do fine, Madison. Go on. Give it a shot," he encouraged in his best creepy-teacher voice.

Madison sighed and said, "IT WAS WHEN SCION SHOWED UP IN THE 1980'S!"

Mr. Gladly massaged his suddenly aching ears. So did several other students sitting near her.

"Very good, Madison," Mr. Gladly replied. "Maybe not so loud next time, but good answer. Class, is she right? Anyone? Taylor?"

Taylor gave the man a glare and said, "How should I know? Someone stuffed me in a locker for the better part of a day a few weeks ago and this is only my second week back. Speaking of lockers, why didn't you do anything about it, Mr. Gladly, call me Mr. G. This classroom is just a couple dozen feet from my locker. Why didn't you do something about it?"

"Uh… yeah," Mr. Gladly sweated. "Okay. Anyone else want to talk about Madison's answer? Anyone? Okay, then. Madison is correct but I would like all of you to do some reading now of chapter 22 of the Super Incident."

Emma raised her hand.

Mr. Gladly noticed and said, "Yes, Miss Barnes?"

"CAN I GO TO THE BATHROOM?!"

"Can it wait until the bell rings?"

"NO!" Emma bellowed.

"IT'S NOT LIKE SHE IS HAVING HER PERIOD OR ANYTHING, YOU KNOW!" Madison faux whispered to a friend.

"You're having your period now?" Mr. Gladly wasn't sure he heard that right.

"MADISON!" Emma shrieked. "GODDAMMIT! WHAT ARE YOU TELLING PEOPLE?!"

Madison feigned innocence. "WHAT?! IT'S NOT LIKE PEOPLE CAN'T FIGURE IT OUT! AND BESIDES, I DIDN'T TELL ANYONE ANYTHING!"

"THEN HOW THE FUCK DID HE FIGURE OUT I'M HAVING, YOU KNOW?!" Emma gestured.

"HOW DO I KNOW?! I'M NOT A MIND READER OR ANYTHING!" Madison replied for everyone to hear.

Mr. Gladly massaged his temple and stated, "Out. Both of you can go to the bathroom. In fact, just stay there until the bell rings and you go to your next class."

The girls left as Mr. Gladly moved his hands to massage his aching ears. Other students were doing the same thing. Taylor, however, remembered her ears didn't hurt.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Cafeteria, Winslow High School parking lot. 12:11pm, Monday, January 31** **st** **, 2011.**

Taylor, still the social outcast, sat down at a table in the cafeteria well away from others. She opened her lunch bag and pulled out a sandwich. As she started to eat, H and T popped onto her shoulders. This time instead of blue skin-tight outfits, they wore red skin-tight outfits. They still wore an H and T on their shirt fronts.

"Hi, Taylor!" H said happily.

"Why so glum, chum?" T inquired as she sat down on Taylor's shoulder.

Taylor nearly had a panic attack as she whispered, "Guys! You can't be here. What if someone sees you and outs me as a cape?!"

H waved it off and said, "Ahh, we've already taken care of that. No one can see or hear us unless we want them to."

"And we don't want the rest of the dicks in Winslow to see or hear us," T added.

"But what about my seemingly talking to myself?" Taylor whispered.

H snapped thumb and finger on both hands and said, "And done. Now they won't see you talking or moving lips while we're chatting. People will simply see you and think nothing more of it."

"Now what's going on?" T asked seriously.

Taylor slumped a little in her seat. "I'm not sure I'm cut out for all of this," she admitted.

"What do you mean?" T prompted.

"I set the three bitches up to forget to keep their voices down when talking. You know, so they'd shout all day," Taylor began.

"Sweet!" H gave Taylor two thumbs up.

Taylor smiled at that and continued, "That's what I thought. But now people are giving them the cold shoulder like they used to give me. I just feel… bad about it, you know?"

"That's because deep down you are a very good person, Taylor. It's normal to feel bad since you caused that situation."

"H is right," T said. "You are a good and decent person. But your objections to using this new power on them is something you are going to have to get over as you have a world to save."

"I know, I know. But isn't there an easier way to learn how to use my powers? I hate to hurt people."

"I know you don't like bullying the bullies, Taylor," T pointed out. "But think about it. Winslow is best for you right now. It is a controlled environment with minimal risk, and only a handful of students and staff are not a bully in some fashion. And you have got to learn how to use your power to save the world. Remember, the more you work your power now, the easier it will be to use it in the future."

Taylor took a bite of her sandwich. "Yeah, about that. I don't know if I can touch each person to make sure my power works on them. I mean, Sophia slugged two guys before even coming into the lunchroom. If I get too close, she's liable to slug me too."

"I knew I forgot something!" H exclaimed. "Taylor, your power isn't touch-based like Panacea's. Touching someone, just a grazing finger on exposed skin was a good way for you to see how your power started. And you will want to do it again on inanimate objects now and then if only to feel how it gets applied, but your power is more than just touch-based."

T stood, held onto Taylor's hair and said, "Try using your sight on them now. Catch their eyes and channel a new remember or forget command. Give that a shot for a few days to see how that works for you. Then start doing it without getting someone's eyes in a staring contest. Your act of will should be enough at that point."

Taylor saw the perfect opportunity as Emma and her friends all sat down at a table. "Okay. I'll give it a shot."

Taylor stared at Sophia, Emma, and Madison who all returned her stare as they all thought she was still a weirdo. A few minutes later something new began.

"HEY SOPHIA!" Emma yelled across the table to her friend.

"WHAT?!"

"THIS PLACE IS AS QUIET AS A MORGUE! CAN YOU GET SOMEONE TO TURN ON SOME MUSIC?!"

"JIMMY!" Sophia shouted to the table next to them. "TURN ON YOUR FUCKING MUSIC BOX! WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT, ASSHOLE! JUST TURN ON THE MUSIC ALREADY!"

Jimmy Cartwright (a junior) turned on his 1980's style large, shoulder-carrying music box that could still play cassettes. Rock music played.

"CHANGE CHANNEL!" Sophia commanded.

Jimmy did. Another rock station turned in.

"CHANGE CHANNEL!" Sophia commanded again.

Jimmy did. Classical music played.

"UGH! CHANGE THE FUCKING CHANNEL! DON'T MAKE ME COME OVER THERE!"

Jimmy did. Country music played.

"NOW YOU'RE PLAYING DECENT MUSIC!" Emma smiled.

"YOU SAID IT!" Madison agreed. "I COULD GO FOR SOME LINE DANCING NOW!"

Sophia was amazed at this revelation. "YOU TOO?! I LOVE LINE DANCING!"

"WHAT WAS THAT SONG AGAIN?!" Emma tried to remember.

"WHAT SONG?!" Sophia returned.

"YOU KNOW!" Emma said imperiously.

"KNOW WHAT?!" Sophia pressed.

"THAT ACHY BREAKY HEARTY THINGY LINE DANCING SONG!" Emma huffed.

"HOW DOES THAT SONG GO?!" Madison asked.

"IT GOES: YOU CAN TELL THE WORLD YOU NEVER WAS MY GIRL AND ACHY BREAKY HEARTY AND STUFF!" Emma announced.

"Taylor?" H began.

"Yeah?"

"What did you do?" H inquired.

Taylor smirked and said, "I made them remember how much they liked line dancing."

"Loud line dancing I take it?" T clarified.

Taylor shrugged and replied, "Sure. Why not?"

H gushed and said, "Good job, Taylor. What are you doing for an encore?"

"Not sure. Maybe give them a break from all of it by the end of lunch."

"Why?" T asked.

"'Cause I sure don't want to listen to them talk like that for the rest of the day," Taylor admitted.

"You know…" H began slowly.

Taylor looked at H. "Know what?"

T picked up that thread and finished, "…that you could always go home sick. Claim it's a holdover from the locker."

Taylor thought about that for a moment. "I could, couldn't I?"

"Yep," T stated.

"Best thing: you wouldn't have to listen to those three bitches for the rest of the day," H said.

"I am feeling a bit ill," Taylor said.

"YEE-HAW!" Emma exclaimed.

"You're not the only one. When did Emma learn to line dance?" T wanted to know.

Taylor winced at the sight and said, "That's not line dancing she's doing."

"That's not right. Not at all," H said for all of them.

"Suddenly, I see myself going home. I'd better have the school nurse call my dad to pick me up." Taylor put away the other half of the sandwich, her appetite actually gone.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Mr. Gladly's World Issues class. 10:11am, Tuesday, February 1** **st** **, 2011.**

The next day, Call Me Mr. G caught Taylor Hebert's eyes for a few moments before class started. He noticed Emma and Madison come in, each with a small strip of tape over their mouths. He shook his head, figuring (rightly in this case) that he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Madison? Emma? Still talking loud I take it?" Mr. Gladly inquired of the cool kids in class.

Madison nodded affirmative. Emma just glared at anyone who looked at her.

"Is it any better?" Mr. Gladly inquired vaguely.

Emma shook her head negative. And glared at Roger in the first chair of the row. Then flipped him off.

"It's worse?" Mr. Gladly prompted.

"Yeah!" fellow student Justin Jones chimed in. "You should have heard them this morning when they came in. Nobody could understand them at all. At least yesterday you could make out what they said."

Mr. Gladly nodded at that. "Thank you, Justin. But what do you mean, no one could understand them?"

"Go ahead, Mads," Robert Bueford smirked from his seat. "Tell him what you told me this morning."

"Yes, show me what else is going on, Madison. I may need to report this to the principal." Gladly gave his patented cool-teacher smile; it was designed to get students to open up to him. He had no idea that people took pictures of that smile and were actively looking to see if he was on any sex registry.

Madison's shoulders slumped as she took the tape off her lips and spoke. "I-YAH OLD-TAY HE-TAY UCKER-FAY O-TAY EAVE-LAY E-MAY HE-TAY UCK-FAY LONE-AAY INCE-SAY E-HAY AS-WAY A-AAY HIT-SAY!"

H and T materialized on Taylor's shoulders and watched with fascination as Madison put the tape back on her lips as a reminder not to talk. They saw Emma flip off a laughing Robert Bueford.

Mr. Gladly shook his head sadly.

"Let me guess," H started. "Screaming pig-Latin?"

Taylor smirked and replied, "Got it in one."

"Nice. What's next?" T wanted to know.

Taylor thought for a moment and said, "I am thinking that Blackwell should remember it is national silly walk day."

"Monty Python reference. Sweet!" H grinned.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Lunchroom, Winslow High School. 12:11pm, Tuesday, February 1** **st** **, 2011.**

Taylor sat at the outcast table, her back to the windows so she could view the lunch line. Several minutes after sitting down, Madison, Emma, and Sophia entered the lunchroom and went to the lunch line.

"I'M SO GLAD WE'RE NOT SPEAKING THAT FOREIGN LANGUAGE ANYMORE!" Emma shouted to her friend who was right next to her.

"I KNOW! I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT LANGUAGE WE WERE SPEAKING!" Madison confessed.

"You guys were speaking pig-Latin. Now can you lower the volume please?" Lester Doones, a sophomore, pleaded with the three girls.

"LATIN?!" Sophia looked at Lester as if he were stupid. "I DON'T EVEN KNOW LATIN! HOW THE HELL DO I SPEAK A LANGUAGE I DON'T KNOW, YOU STUPID SHIT!"

Lester paused, looked at the three girls behind him and motioned for them to go forward as he returned to his table where his friends were not Emma, Madison, or Sophia. A friend took pity and gave him a Twinkie.

Mr. Gladly walked up to the three girls waiting to get lunch. "I hear you three are no longer speaking pig-Latin, correct?"

"CHRIST ON A FUCKING BROOMSTICK, YOU DIPSHIT! HOW THE HELL CAN I SPEAK A LANGUAGE THAT I DON'T KNOW!" Sophia demanded.

"I'm sorry, but what did you call me? You do realize I'm a teacher, right?" Mr. Gladly stated.

"SURE AS SHIT I KNOW YOU'RE A FUCKING ASSHOLE TEACHER! WHAT OF IT?!" Sophia demanded.

"HEY!" Emma pointed at the list of lunch menu items. "WHAT'S THAT WRITTEN ON THE LUNCH BOARD?! CAN ANYONE READ THOSE CHICKEN SCRATCHES?!"

"I CAN'T READ IT! WHAT'S THE SPECIAL FOR THE DAY, YOU PIECE OF CRAP?!" Madison asked the lunch lady behind the counter. The same lunch lady with a steaming, hot, ladle of something… edible. Maybe.

"The lunch special is clearly written on that board in English, young lady," seethed Millicent Stonkie, the ranking lunch lady.

"THEN YOUR FUCKING HANDWRITING IS FUCKING HORRIBLE BECAUSE I CAN'T FUCKING READ IT!" Madison pointed out.

"Gladly? You want to take care of this?" Millicent motioned to the loud-mouthed girls. The ladle in her hand began to bend from the pressure in her fist.

"…um…" Mr. Gladly began.

Millicent looked at the waffle of a teacher and said, "Would you prefer to eat the same things the students do, or the other things we make?"

"Emma, Madison, Sophia…" Mr. Gladly began immediately.

"WHAT?!" Emma said.

"WHAT?!" Madison said.

"FUCK YOU. I MEAN, WHAT?" Sophia said.

"Detention. Today. After school," Mr. Gladly said with finality.

"WHAT?!" Emma said.

"WHAT?!" Madison said.

"FUCK YOU!" Sophia said.

Taylor wasn't the only one watching the fallout, but she was the only one with two temporary guardian angels on her shoulders.

"What did you do now, Taylor?" H wanted to know.

"I had them remember they didn't speak fluent pig-Latin, forget they knew how to read, and forget that insulting teachers and staff is a bad idea."

"Sweet!" T gushed. "What's next?"

"I think I'll look into joining a school gang," Taylor suggested.

"Hwah?" H said.

"What H meant to say is: W-T-F?"

"Trust me. But I wouldn't mind if you two watch my back, okay?" Taylor hoped.

H grinned and said, "I'm more of a shoulder-spirit if you know what I mean. More legroom."

"That's fine," Taylor smiled. "Let's go find a few gangs and see what they are doing now."

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Danny's car. 3:11pm, Tuesday, February 1** **st** **, 2011.**

The Hebert vehicle passenger door creaked and squeaked as Taylor opened it. Bag thrown to the back row, Taylor dropped into the front seat.

"How was school today?" her father asked.

Taylor grinned and said, "Great! Good news! I'm not joining a gang. They're all assholes."

Danny nodded in agreement. "That they are. That they are. I'm glad to hear you are still gang-free. What brought that on?"

Taylor shrugged as her father pulled out of the school lot. "Oh, I just talked with a few of the gangs today to see what their problems were with the other gangs and decided they were are pretty much stupid."

"Maybe you should make your own gang," Danny suggested.

"You don't mind if I do that?"

"I have no problem with it at all. All it takes is will, determination, and charisma. Oh, and a place to hang out."

"Like our living room?" Taylor pressed.

"Sure. And a TV. Gangs like to have TVs."

"And popcorn?"

"Sure," Danny agreed. "Gotta have popcorn when watching TV."

"And… okay, you got me on that one. No gangs for me," Taylor grinned.

"Good to hear. Thai tonight?"

"Sure!"

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: The Rig, Director Piggot's office. 8:11pm, Wednesday, February 2** **nd** **, 2011.**

Night had long since fallen but Armsmaster, Miss Militia and Director Piggot were still in her office. The fluorescent lights illuminated that part of the floor, even through her bullet-proof glass windows. Director Piggot sat at her desk, and the two capes in chairs across from her. Director Piggot looked very tired and poured herself something to drink. Water, unfortunately. She wanted something stronger, but her body hadn't been cooperating for some time.

Director Piggot rubbed her forehead after listening to her two capes reports. "Dragon? Have you been listening in?"

"Yes, Director," Dragon replied over the speakers in the office.

"Can you summarize the discussion we just had about the new trigger?" she requested.

"Certainly, Director," Dragon replied. "Monday, January 31st, Ward Shadow Stalker exhibited signs of possible mastering. Initial discussion was to limit her activities and follow her covertly using tinker-surveillance on her person. Ward Shadow Stalker assumed civilian identity. Identify redacted. Tuesday, February 1st, Ward Shadow Stalker returned to her high school in civilian identity where she and two other female students exhibited additional signs of being mastered.

"Anticipating that new trigger involved, Ward Shadow Stalker removed from active role temporarily to eliminate threat to PRT systems and security. Armsmaster and Miss Militia speculated that new trigger attends Winslow High School as all apparent mastered subjects go to same school. Tuesday afternoon, three hours after school ended and students released, Armsmaster and Miss Militia met with Principal Blackwell, who also appeared to have been mastered as her walking pattern had been altered to the point she could barely walk in a straight line. Discussion undertaken with school principal regarding options to locate new trigger.

"Late Tuesday evening, approximately 23:00 hours, Armsmaster and Miss Militia returned to Winslow High School and entered it with the assistance of Principal Blackwell. Once inside, Armsmaster and Miss Militia bugged hallways, classrooms, and staff lounges with specialized PRT recorders."

"Can we not say that we bugged the school?" Miss Militia interrupted.

Director Piggot waved the comment off. "It is what it is. Live with it. Continue, Dragon."

"Recording devices activated at 00:00:01 hours on Wednesday, February 2nd," Dragon continued. "As the day progressed, non-consistent behavior patterns were identified by many other students of Winslow. The following situations were specifically identified:

"One: The Empire 88 affiliated students, approximately 267 young white males, organized several attacks against the ABB affiliated students. A total of nine different attacks occurred at Winslow. All attacks by the E88 students were of them throwing water balloons at the ABB students. The ABB students did not fight back but instead ran to safety.

"Two: The ABB affiliated students, approximately 164 young Asian males, organized several attacks against the Merchant affiliated students. A total of six different attacks occurred at Winslow. All attacks by the ABB students were of them shooting spit wads at the Merchant students. The Merchant students did not fight back but instead ran to safety.

"Three: The Merchant affiliated students, approximately 127 young men and women of all races, organized several attacks against the E88 affiliated students. A total of four different attacks occurred at Winslow. All attacks by the Merchant students were of them throwing cream pies at the E88 students. The E88 students did not fight back but instead ate the pies.

"Four: The Choir Gang 1 students, approximately 39 young women of all races, organized several attacks against the Bang-Bang Band students. A total of three different attacks occurred at Winslow. All attacks by the Choir Gang 1 students were of them pelting the BBB students with balls of used underwear. The BBB students did not fight back but instead ran to the bathrooms to get cleaned up.

"Five: The Bang-Bang Band students, approximately 112 young men and women of all races, organized several attacks against the faculty for cutting all music funding. A total of three different attacks occurred at Winslow. All attacks by the BBB students were of them subjecting the faculty with loud renditions of someone yodeling. Off-key I might add. This was accomplished using Walkmans, Discmans, and shoulder-stereos. The faculty did not fight back but instead gave the BBB students a failing grade for that day.

"Six: The faculty, approximately 47 men and women of all races, organized a resistance to the constant yodeling by supplying the Choir Gang 1 with additional used underwear after it became apparent the first volley by the Choir Gang 1 utilized all the used underwear they had access to. Plans to raid lockers and laundromats were overheard but no recording devices were installed in those sensitive areas, so it was unknown what happened after planning stages."

"Thank you, Dragon," Director Piggot said politely, even though it was to a cape. To her two people in her office, you asked, "Do we know exactly what is happening here with the new trigger?"

Miss Militia shook her head negatively, "No ma'am. We are certain it is a master, but we are unsure how it is being carried out."

"Use Shadow Stalker as bait then. She was affected first, most likely by a person who is not happy with her," Director Piggot ordered.

"That is about the entire student body at Winslow," Dragon observed.

"I know," Director Piggot replied. "Regardless, use her presence there as bait for this master. We need to find out who this is. Get Smith and Jones added to the teacher roster there. Maybe they can find something."

"Yes, ma'am," Miss Militia said.

"Does anyone have anything else?" Director Piggot asked of all three capes.

"It may not be relevant, but I have checked the numbers," Armsmaster stated. "There is an upside to what is going on at Winslow."

"Continue," Director Piggot said.

"The upside: local establishments are selling more straws and facial tissues for the spit wads, CDs and cassettes of yodeling, balloons, underwear, and cream pies, including cans of instant whip to make any pie a cream pie. This is bringing in additional revenue to the local economy," Armsmaster said.

"Go back to your lab, Colin. This meeting is over," Director Piggot stated.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Medhall building, Max Anders office. 8:11pm, Wednesday, February 2** **nd** **, 2011.**

In an opulent office used by the head of the company, Max Anders, aka: Kaiser, met with three members of the E88. Not costumed up were Krieg, Stormtiger, and Hookwolf. Each was standing as Max was a little more than furious.

Glass of bourbon in hand, Max summed up the day's activities when he snarled, "Water balloons?! Our people were throwing water balloons at Winslow today?! Are we employing a bunch of pussies these days?! Find out what the hell is going on in that fucking school!"

"Yes, Max," muttered three voices.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Ruby Dream Casino, top floor office. 8:11pm, Wednesday, February 2** **nd** **, 2011.**

Lung was in the top office with Oni Lee, Bakuda, and several high-ranking soldiers in his employ. He had managed to get Bakuda into his city just the other day. They were all in costume as the high-ranking soldiers did not need to know their identities. Lung was a little furious, as usual.

"Spit wads? What the fuck are those?" Lung demanded.

High-ranking soldier Lee Wong told him what they were.

"Oh," Lung replied, getting angrier. "What happened to traditional knives and guns? I like tradition. I do not like spit wads. Or balloons. Especially water balloons."

"How about we just blow them the fuck up?"

"I'll think on it," Lung seethed as that wasn't the first time Bakuda suggested that. Seemingly, it was her standard answer to anything. Eggs undercooked? Blow it up. Someone late to a meeting? Blow him up. Got an oil leak in the car's engine? Blow it up. Admittedly, he was with her on the oil leak. Stupid Chrysler.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: City Hall, Mayor's office. 8:11pm, Wednesday, February 2** **nd** **, 2011.**

The Mayor, the Chief of Police, several other officers, and two councilmen were in the Mayor's office. It was late, and they were tired. But they needed to address the latest crime wave.

"Sorry, chief, what was that again?" the Mayor said, confused. "There's an upswing in underwear theft? And this is a problem… because?"

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Mr. Gladly's World Issues class, Winslow High School. 10:11am, Thursday, February 3rd, 2011.**

Well after a minute of the class bell ringing, Mr. Gladly finally got up from his desk with the assistance of a cane. He wore a white button-up sweater that only had three total buttons at the bottom half, which was misbuttoned. He stood in front of the blackboard. His hair had not been combed that day. Or washed. Part of it was sticking up in the back.

"Shaddup you animals," Mr. Gladly said loudly. "The bell's rung. Let's start the class."

"Mr. G? Is something the matter?" Lee David inquired.

"Mr. G? Screw that. Call me Mr. Gladly already. Got it?! Now: is something wrong? Of course there's something wrong! I'm stuck in this filthy building with you filthy students instead of being at home working on my lawn. That's what's wrong," Mr. Gladly stated.

"I thought you said you lived in an apartment overlooking the bay?" Linda Meyers thought she remembered from a comment he made months ago.

Mr. Gladly nodded, not denying it. "I did say that! It was a ruse to keep you punks off my goddamn lawn! You think I want you on my lawn?! Hell no! I love taking care of my lawn and I don't need any snot-nosed, wet-behind-the-ears little shits… yes, that's you in this classroom… from walking on it and screwing it up!"

Emma raised her hand. "ARE WE GOING TO LEARN ANYTHING IN TODAY'S CLASS, OR ARE YOU JUST GOING TO FUCKING BORE US TO DEATH WITH LAWN STORIES?!"

"HAT-WAY HE-SHAY AID-SAY!" Madison pointed to Emma.

Mr. Gladly glared at the two shouting students. "You want to learn something?! Fine! Anyone want an automatic A for their end of year grade should plan to be at my house this Saturday to work on my lawn! Some asshole Merchants have taken up residence on it during the day to sleep off their drug-induced stupors! So I plan to get my lawn in shape with a few surprises! Bamboo-laced tiger-pit style! And if you don't show up, then you fail the semester! Did you learn something there?! That was called: the art of the deal! Now shaddup and let's learn about something or other."

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Hallway, Winslow High School. 8:11am, Friday, February 4** **th** **, 2011.**

Sebastian Jones stopped copying the day's homework off Claire North and looked down the hallway with the rest of the students. Emma Barnes, Madison Clement, and Sophia Hess walked to their lockers. Each had the same hair style. All three had black hair, approximately two feet long standing straight up.

"That must have taken a lot of hair gel to get it to stay up," Sebastian said.

"Huh?" Claire said before noticing the three girls. "Oh, them. They're just attention seekers. It's probably wigs and… nope, not wigs. Ouch. Guess Sophia didn't like John tugging the hair. That's going to leave a mark."

Sebastian grinned as a thought came to him. "You know what would be great?"

"What?" Claire motioned for him to finish copying her notes.

"If they had a white streak up the sides of their hair, from their ears to the top," Sebastian suggested.

Claire looked at the three girls for a moment before the idea made sense. "Oh, I get it. Like that old horror movie or something. Yeah, that would be good. Oh! I just figured out how to do it. I can do it, but I'm going to need a few things from you."

Sebastian finished copying the notes and said, "Anything to get back at that black bitch."

"Okay. I need you to get some more used underwear and hand it over to Margie. She'll get it to the rest of the gang. You do that, and I'll take care of the hair streaks."

"You guys taking on the BBB gang again?" Sebastian wanted to know.

"Shit yes!" she replied. "Only this time we're going to wrap it on their heads and push it into their faces. Take our funding, will they? Fuckers."

Sebastian nodded in approval. "Nice. I'll tell the guys. We'll scavenge for grungies while we fill up more balloons."

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Mr. Gladly's World Issues class, Winslow High School. 10:11am, Friday, February 4** **th** **, 2011.**

"Okay you animals, shaddup! Today we're going… wait. Where the hell are the rest of your goddam classmates?" Mr. Gladly wanted to know.

Lee Tambu raised a hand and said, "Emma and Madison are crawling up the stairs, Mr. G!"

"Call me Mr. Gladly! Now, why the hell are they doing that?"

Lee David replied, "They didn't have casts or anything wrong with their legs, sir. They were walking about the first floor easy as anything. But walking up the stairs seems to, ah, be challenging for them."

Mr. Gladly's eyebrows raised as he said, "No shit?! Goddamn. What the hell else can go wrong with the godawful place?"

Outside the classroom, Emma could be heard yelling, "JUST A FEW MORE FUCKING STEPS, MADISON! YOU CAN FUCKING DO IT AND THEN WE'LL GO TO THAT FUCKING USELESS CLASS GLADLY TEACHES!"

Madison could be heard panting as she yelled her response, "CAN E-WAY GO O-TAY THE ATH-RAY BEFORE OING-GAY TO IS-HAY CLASSROOM?! I OTTA-GAY PEE!"

Mr. Gladly's face took on the expected annoyed look from their comments. He walked to the classroom door, opened it and yelled at the two girls. "Yes, you two can go to the bathroom and simply stay there, you animals! Jesus! Be on time the next time?! And you both get failing grades for today's class! You wanna make it up? Then grass patrol is in your goddamn future! Jesus!"

He slammed the door shut and looked back at the class. "Let's learn something today, you filthy animals," he began.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Lunchroom, Winslow High School. 12:11pm, Friday, February 4** **th** **, 2011.**

Taylor sat at her usual table to watch the antics of her former BFF and her two new besties. In fact, several other tables had people doing the same thing which they informally called: How 3 Psychos Get Detention.

"Hey, Taylor," H said, popping into existence.

"Hiya, sport! What's new?" T wanted to know.

Taylor smiled and replied, "Hi, guys. Did you know that if you compliment the lunch lady, you get something that no one else does?"

"I did not," T admitted. "Like what?"

Taylor motioned to the food in front of her. "Like food that is recognizable and edible instead of that mass of chemicals they keep giving the rest of the population here."

"Nice! Use your power for that?" H inquired.

Taylor replied, "Oh, no. I just remembered that Madison was a total bitch yesterday and what she said to Mrs. Stonkie and felt bad for her, so I wanted to make her day a little better. That's all."

"A no-power complement. Nice. But have you been using your power?" T pressed.

"Big time," Taylor admitted.

"Care to elaborate for us poor temps on your shoulders?" H said.

Taylor grinned. "Sure. See the bitch trio over there?"

T did. "Whoa. What's with the weird hair?"

"I watched Bride of Frankenstein last night with dad. Got the idea from that. And that's not all."

"There's more?" H hoped.

"Oh yes. Emma's hair forgot to stay red. Emma's, Madison's, and Sophia's hair forgot to accept gravity and instead of going down, their do's are pointing up. And somehow all three forgot how to walk up a staircase today. They missed a few classes because of that."

"So sad," H faked condolences. "Is that all?"

"Nope. One more thing for them. See if you can spot it," Taylor said.

H and T looked intently at the trio eating at a table by themselves. Emma took a bite of a sandwich. Sophia wolfed down an apple. Madison ate a few chips. Finished with the chips, Madison grabbed the glass of water and took a swig… right in her left eye.

H replied, "Sweet! She has a drinking problem!"

"Nope," Taylor shook her head.

"No?" H thought he had the answer.

Taylor grinned and replied, "All _three_ have a drinking problem."

Sophia's lips moved, but she kept her voice off as she grabbed a glass of water and she too took a swig… into her right eye. Emma avoided her glass of water. But she was so thirsty…

"I loved that movie!" T said.

"Me too," Taylor agreed.

"I love how you are changing up the forgets and remembers around here," H observed. "What else do you have planned for the day?"

"Well, did you know that the PRT has a couple finks on staff here today? They're pretty easy to spot. For one thing, they're polite. Guess what they forgot?"

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: The Rig, Director Piggot's office. 6:11pm, Friday, February 4** **th** **, 2011.**

Director Piggot, Armsmaster, and Miss Militia were again in Director Piggot's office. This time they wanted to debrief the two PRT agents they inserted into Winslow High. PRT agents Kyle Smith, and Chet Jones sat on the other side of the conference table in her office.

As the two PRT agents took their seats, Chet Jones sneezed hard into his elbow. His nose running due to the sneeze, he immediately blew his nose into his left hand and wiped it on his pants leg.

"Mr. Jones," Miss Militia began. "We do have Kleenex over there." She pointed to a box on the Director's desk.

Chet Jones was a mid-30's male, former military, who kept himself in shape by running. He was not a gym jock who exercised all the time. He enjoyed running and kept at it. He face was slender, his black hair short, and his eyes alert. That was why it surprised Miss Militia when Chet replied, "Um… okay? What's Kleenex?"

Not slow on the uptake, Armsmaster inquired of agent Smith, "Do you know what Kleenex is?"

Agent Kyle Smith was former Navy, late-30's. He enjoyed workouts a few times a week and runs a few times a week. He was not enamored with exercising, but knew he needed to keep himself fit if only to keep a job that paid something in today's lousy economy. He too piqued Miss Militia's intuition when he said, "Doesn't ring a bell. Ah-choo! Apologies. Those little shits did enough water balloon fights today. I got tagged a few times."

Kyle Smith pulled a fold of his jacket up to his nose and blew into it. "Glad to be with adults again," he said, wiping the rest of the snot onto his jacket.

Director Piggot leaned in to Miss Militia and stated, "Potential mastering."

Miss Militia had the same idea and said, "Agreed. Gentlemen, do you feel up to giving a report from your day at Winslow?"

Kyle Smith smiled and replied, "Sure as shit, baby."

Chet Jones smacked his friend upside the head. "Kyle! What's wrong with you, man? You don't address her like that!"

Kyle Smith looked chastised. "Sorry. I meant: sure as shit, honey."

Chet Jones sat back with a content look on his face. "That's better, buddy."

"Gentlemen, please describe your day and anything you found," Miss Militia ordered.

The two operatives, mastered or not, did provide a comprehensive run-down of their day, each noting potential suspect triggers. They mentioned Sophia Hess based on what was talked about her by other students which they eavesdropped/overheard. An additional six other names were mentioned as a possible person who had a very strong grudge against Sophia and the other two girl students also being tormented.

"Can you two estimate each of these person's powers and level?" Director Piggot requested.

Chet sat up straight and smiled. "Sure as shit, Director honey. This is purely speculation as we never saw any sort of power being used and based all of this off what other people said. But if I had to guess, I would say Rachel Green is a Stranger, level 1, Monica Geller is a Breaker, level 1, Phoebe Buffay is a Mover, level 1, Joey Tribbiani is a Brute, level 1, Chandler Bing is a Blaster, level 1, Ross Geller is a Striker, level 1, and Taylor Hebert is a poo-poo head, level piss all over myself."

Miss Militia blinked at that assessment. "Would you agree, Mr. Smith?"

Kyle Smith nodded in his seat. "All but Hebert. She was more of a gotta wipe my ass, level atomic wedgie."

Director Piggot stood, went to her desk, spoke with someone quietly for a moment on her phone, then returned to the table. She motioned for both agents to not say anything further, nor for Miss Militia or Armsmaster to speak. Within 30 seconds, a knock was heard on the door.

Director Piggot stood again and motioned for the agents to do the same. "Thank you, gentlemen. We believe you were recognized and subsequently mastered." She opened the door and several PRT agents were in the hall, sprayers at the ready. Director Piggot continued, "These PRT members will escort you to a master/stranger room where you will undergo master/stranger protocols. Am I understood?"

Chet Jones flashed a peace sign and said, "Sure as shit, baby. I'm cool."

"Me too, director honey," Kyle Jones said, exiting the room. "Hey guys! 'Sup?!"

The two men left under the watchful eye of four other PRT members, all armed. The door closed and security procedures activated.

Director Piggot sat in her desk chair, tired. She hated to see good people screwed over by a cape. "Thoughts?" she requested.

Miss Militia stood and looked out the window at the lights on in town. "They were clearly mastered, so their entire report is suspect."

"Agreed. Have you identified the students they mentioned?" she indicated Armsmaster.

He responded, "I have. I found them in a 2010 school yearbook I digitized yesterday. Loading to your wall monitor now."

The wall monitor lit up showing all seven individuals. The grade each individual was in displayed next to each person. Two seniors, two juniors, and three sophomores.

Miss Militia reviewed the faces and names. "I think we should skip the first six that Mr. Jones mentioned," she suggested.

Dragon replied over the speakers, "I agree. Mr. Jones mentioned the first six students by name and identified the type of power classification and level normally. But with Miss Hebert, both men gave nonsensical answers."

"Not nonsensical," Director Piggot corrected.

"Director?" Dragon responded.

Director Piggot sat up and stated, "It was potty-humor. I believe the master we are looking for is a student based off that alone."

"I've hacked into the school's archives," Armsmaster stated.

"I see it," Dragon replied immediately. "Oh. Colin? Look at the janitor report for January 4th of this year."

Armsmaster pulled up the report onto the monitor and read it inside 40 seconds. Director Piggot and Miss Militia read it as well in similar time frames.

"Speculation?" Armsmaster asked of Dragon.

"Possible trigger event," she responded evenly.

Armsmaster nodded and said, "Agreed. Who did the locker belong to?"

"The school listed it as belonging to Taylor Hebert," Dragon answered.

Director Piggot stated simply, "I think we found our new trigger."

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Hebert household, Taylor's bedroom. 9:11pm, Friday, February 4** **th** **, 2011.**

Taylor sat on her bed, listening to music from her clock radio on her nightstand. She was in her nightgown, sitting under the covers when H&T popped into existence on her shoulders.

"Hiya, Taylor," H greeted.

"Whatcha doin'?" T pointed to Taylor's lap.

"Hey guys," Taylor finished writing a sentence. "Just writing down this week's activities in my journal."

"A power journal?" H said.

"Yup," Taylor answered.

"That's a good idea. Kinda brings it into clarity why we are here tonight," T said seriously.

That grabbed Taylor's attention. "What do you mean?"

H&T hovered off her shoulders and moved to float in front of her.

"We need to talk to you about how you are getting along with your powers," H said.

"I think I'm doing damn great," Taylor beamed.

"We think the same. Which is why we need to talk to you," T was still serious.

Taylor shook her head, still confused. "What do you mean?"

"We wanted you to experiment using your power in Winslow because it was safe for you," H pointed out.

"Yeah, I know. You told me."

"Right. But it was also supposed to be safe for the people at Winslow as you learned your powers. Some practical jokes being played that no one can figure out: that's cool. Some weird things happening that don't hurt people: again, that's cool," T said.

H continued. "But you, little Miss Sunshine are an over-achiever. Meaning it is no longer safe at Winslow for either you, or for anyone else."

That wasn't what she was expecting. "What?"

"Taylor. Look back at this week. What did you think during lunch on Monday vs. what did you think during lunch today?" T instructed.

"I thought… oh," Taylor realized.

"Yes," H agreed. "Oh. While it was fun to bully the bullies a couple times, doing it too much and escalating it too far could lead you into becoming another Heartbreaker."

"You did better at learning to use your power than we thought you would. Better. Faster. Stronger," T said.

Taylor knew they were right. Especially after what she did to those two PRT goons at school. "Aw shit, you guys are right. So… now what?"

T nodded as she knew Taylor was ready to listen. "Now that you have the basics down, you need to start meeting the local capes in order to ramp your power up to the next level in order to save the world. You want to still do pranks, that's cool. They should be able to take it. Just… be careful, okay?"

H continued, "Figure that baseline humans are level 1. Capes are generally level 10. Lung can ramp up to a level 20. Saving the world is a level 100. It is hard, but nothing you can't do. You can get to level 100. We have faith in you, Taylor."

Taylor sat quietly for a few minutes, digesting what they said.

"Think I should I return the bitch trio to their regularly scheduled attitudes?"

"What do you think?" T wanted Taylor to come to her own answer.

Mouth firm, Taylor said, "Yeah, I should. Probably better have Gladly remember he was trying to be the cool teacher."

"Why do that?" H wondered. "He's actually one of the most popular teachers now."

"What? Since when?"

H grinned and said, "Apparently since he started complaining about everything and everyone at Winslow and calling all the students filthy animals. No one thinks it is a comment about them, thinking it is intended for someone else. Seems they like hearing a teacher call other students animals."

"Filthy animals," T clarified.

"Huh. How about that. Guess he finally got his wish to be popular. Fine. No more Winslow targets. No more non-powered forgets or remembers." Taylor put her power notebook away.

"Sounds like a plan," T agreed.

"Except one," Taylor stated.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Hebert household, family room. 1:11pm, Saturday, February 5** **th** **, 2011.**

Danny sat in a flowered chair watching an old movie on TV. A beer bottle was nearby. Just one. He wasn't an alcoholic. Well, not anymore. Taylor joined him in the room and sat on the couch next to the chair.

"Dad?" she said tentatively. This was hard for her.

"What's up, Taylor?" Danny paused the movie.

"I need to tell you what happened at school this week," Taylor started a little nervously.

She began telling him what happened with Sophia, Madison, and Emma on Monday and continued through Friday, mentioning all the other people affected as well and what they did. Danny laughed at many of the antics as they were designed to embarrass, and not really hurt.

When his daughter finished, he said, "Sounds like a new cape is attending Winslow. You need to be careful so you're not caught up with all that."

Taylor squirmed a bit. "Yeah. It's a new cape. I know."

Danny's eyebrow lifted, anticipating the answer, "You know the new cape?"

"Yeah. _I'm_ the new cape."

Taylor next told her father all about her power. She omitted telling him about H&T as the last thing she needed was for him to think she was crazy. Well… crazier. All capes were crazy after all.

When she finished, he said, "Taylor, I have to say I'm not entirely comfortable with your power. It sounds like you are mastering people."

"Yeah, it does sound like it, but it's not really mastering. Not really. I either have someone forget something or remember something. Having someone remember or forget actually causes a body's physiology to react. In fact, I started on myself. I remembered how to fly."

Taylor floated off the floor for a few seconds before gently landing again.

"Still sounds a bit like Heartbreaker," Danny argued.

Taylor deflated. "Yeah. Thought so myself. That's why I'm not using it on baseline humans anymore. Except one more."

"Sophia?" Danny suggested.

Taylor shook her head. "No. You. I want to help you remember something."

Danny sat straight in his chair. "I'm pretty sure I haven't forgotten anything, young lady. And I don't need to remember to fly or shoot laser beams out of my eyes."

"No," Taylor said firmly. "You have forgotten something."

Taylor leaned forward and took his hand in hers, a tear in her eye and said, "Do you remember the love that mom gave you?"

Danny recalled that clearly. He remembered her love for him when they first met, when they married, even when they argued over that stupid pencil-thin mustache he had in his 20's. It really was stupid looking. He looked like a pimp, she had told him.

"Do you remember the love and friendship from everyone that knows you? Your friends? Co-workers? Kurt? Lacey? So many others?"

Danny recalled that clearly as well. The laughter of friends at his and Annette's wedding. The backyard BBQs that had a little more drinking than they should have. The chug-a-thons he and some of the DWA guys (and women) enjoyed a few times. The celebration at the office on Taylor's birth. The hugs and shared grief at Annette's funeral.

Taylor looked him right in the eyes. "Do you remember the love from your daughter?"

"I never forgot," Danny replied.

"Then do you remember your daughter always loved getting hugs from you?"

"Oh, Taylor," Danny stood and took Taylor into his arms for a long hug-session. A few minutes later, they broke apart as he checked his eye for some wayward dust particles that got in there and Taylor blew her nose.

"Damn allergies," Taylor complained.

Danny sniffed a few times. "Stupid dust particles. Okay. You can be a superhero," her father agreed.

Taylor gave a genuine smile and said, "Thanks, dad. I need to save the world."

"That's fine. You can save the world… after your chores are done that is."

"Daaaaddd… Fine. Agreed."

"Good. Now tell me how you are going to be a successful cape. What is your game plan?"

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Hebert household, Taylor's bathroom. 6:11am, Sunday, February 6** **th** **, 2011.**

The bathroom was filled with steam from the shower. Taylor turned the shower off. The bathroom filled with even more steam as the shower curtain was pulled back. A 15-year-old Taylor Hebert stepped out of the tub, a towel wrapped around her body. She went up to the mirror over the sink and wiped steam off it with her hand. She saw her reflection. Wet hair, two eyes, and two mini-versions of herself about four inches tall – one on each shoulder.

"Hiya!" H chimed.

"How you feeling?" T wondered.

Taylor smiled. They kept trying to make her jump. That was getting harder and harder for them to do these days. "Very good actually. It's time to up my game," she said, brushing her hair.

"You got an idea of what to do?" H said while pointing to a lump of her hair she missed with her brush.

"I think so," she replied, getting the matted hair H pointed out. "It all starts with physical fitness." She smiled at T and then looked at herself in the mirror and remembered what it was like to be physically fit like an athlete who did track and field. She closed her eyes and smiled.

"I think that did the trick to get me started," she said, motioning for the two scamps to go hide while she got dressed. They hid behind the shower curtain, respectful of Taylor's privacy.

"What's next on the agenda?" T asked.

"I think I'm going to take up running in the mornings and evenings," Taylor said, putting on some old clothes and ratty shoes she got from a thrift store.

"Good plan. Then what?" H said.

"Then go find me some capes I guess," Taylor admitted.

"Anything else?" T gave Taylor a once-over to make sure the outfit had no hidden holes or anything.

"Yes," Taylor admitted. "I plan to not take a shower until after I run in the future. This may have woke me up today, but I'm going to be sweaty in about 10 minutes so I'll be taking another shower soon enough. I should do something about Dad's water bill. Oh crap. I also need to go buy some sweats."

"You know…" H began in a conspiring tone. "Have you ever thought about what your clothes could remember?"

Taylor smacked her head. "…no, I haven't thought of that. Good idea."

Taylor left her house a few minutes later in comfortable fitting, new-looking sweats and running shoes.

 **-oo00oo-**

TBC…

 **Author comments:**

Wow, but this story grew out of control. I had an idea and just kept going with it. The second part of this story is coming up next. I sure hope I don't end up writing a third section of this story. These chapters are long enough as is.

The next chapter is at least a week away, likely two weeks. It is already as long as this one and I have more writing to do on it.

If anyone picked up any of the movie/tv references in the story, send me a message. I'll give you a shout out in the next chapter.


	4. Chapter 4: Forget Me Not Wormverse 2

Chapter 4: Forget Me Not Wormverse part 2

 **Author's Note:**

In which we find out what Taylor can do against capes with more knowledge, experience, and money.

Special shout-out to dimefox as he found some of the hidden TV/Movie references in the last chapters.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Forest Lane industrial area. 10:11pm, Tuesday, February 8** **th** **, 2011.**

"Why are we even here?" Regent complained from the dark side of a warehouse roof.

The "here" was a 3-story warehouse that was two warehouses away from the ABB safe house. At least that was what Tattletale had told them. Grue waved him quiet while Bitch motioned for her dogs to stay silent.

"Quiet," whispered Tattletale. "We need to get more information this this safe house. The boss wants it."

"It's probably filled with kidnapped girls," Regent whispered back.

"Or drugs," Grue supplied.

"No. Not the way those ABB-ers are moving around. I think this is a weapons cache," Tattletale theorized. "Probably why the boss wants it."

"So what's the big plan then? Drop on them and take everything?" he waved a hand towards the target warehouse.

"Shit!" Tattletale near-yelled. "We've been spotted. Out, out, out!"

There was suddenly a fifth individual in the middle of the Undersiders. He wore a demon mask and carried grenades along his waist. It was Oni Lee, the suicidal teleporter.

Oni Lee teleported into the middle of the Undersiders. He knew his plan. Teleport in, pull a grenade, arm it, drop it, teleport out. Standard operating procedures. Worked like a charm every time. He'd never had a problem with it before.

Grue saw Oni Lee teleport in and reacted instantly. As Oni Lee pulled his grenade off his belt and armed it by pulling the pin, he enveloped the entire area in blackness. He did not know that Oni Lee was now trapped as he could not see. Grue could see and rushed forward, using his left hand to envelop Lee's right hand holding the grenade, and stopping the bomber from dropping it and teleporting out. With his right hand, Grue punched Lee in the stomach and then the face once, twice, three times. And then two more times for good measure.

Grue wore biker gloves. He had paid extra to have a thin metal lining inserted around the knuckle area, hidden under the leather. This was fortunate as with Grue's strength, and the fact he was hitting Oni Lee with essentially brass knuckles, the teleporter quickly lost consciousness. He also lost several front teeth, but Grue couldn't tell that since he was Oni Lee wore a mask.

Grue could tell when Oni Lee went down as the cape collapsed cold. The only thing still in the air was Grue holding the hand with the grenade. Grue allowed the blackness to dissipate. He also placed Oni Lee's hand down on his body, not allowing the grenade to explode.

"C'mon," Tattletale hissed. "We need to go now! They've called Lung!"

The Undersiders mounted the three monster dogs and took off. Tattletale was unsure what she was going to tell the boss about this. She wasn't even sure why he wanted information on this warehouse. He had all the guns he needed. So why want more? Unless it was to get those guns off the street.

The Undersiders were well away from the area when Oni Lee woke up. Lung had not shown up, contrary to what Tattletale insinuated. The first thing Oni Lee realized as he woke up was that he felt terrible. His mouth was full of fluid. He pulled his mask off and spit out what would later be found to be blood and teeth. The other thing he realized was that he hurt everywhere and it took him both hands to pull his mask off so he could massage his jaw.

This was unfortunate as the grenade in his right hand was forgotten and rolled away from him, fully armed and on a countdown. Oni Lee had a moment of clarity when he heard his name called for by a nameless rank and file soldier. Had it not been for someone calling out for him in concern he might have noticed the grenade by his foot and teleported away to safety. As is, no such luck and the grenade exploded, alerting the ABB of where Oni Lee had been.

Now all they had to do was find out where he was and back him up against whoever wanted to take Lung's things away from him. They did not have to ponder where he was for long as part of a boot with a foot inside it landed near an ABB soldier. He recognized that boot. He had seen it many times on Oni Lee. And since there had just been an explosion on that warehouse over there… oh, shit, he realized. He alerted his superior to the situation.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Black Market Doctors Clinic (covertly named: Frozen Hamburger LLC), Room 6. 1:11am, Wednesday, February 9** **th** **, 2011.**

Lung stormed out of the treatment room as the attending doctor and nurse remained behind to continue treatment on Oni Lee. Lung had made no visible reaction when he had first entered the room earlier and saw his top lieutenant missing both legs from the knees down as well as his right arm. Lee's face and most of his body was damaged from the explosive force as well as fire burns.

Lung had asked Lee what happened, not caring for the excuse of the doctor and nurse stating he was not lucid even during the few times he said something. Lung pressed harder and asked Lee what happened. Lee managed to open one eye, see his boss, and croaked out, "Undersiders." He then fell unconscious again.

Lung stopped by the reception desk and handed them his Villain Medical Insurance card for Lee's continual stay. Once the transaction was processed, he left with his subordinates. In the car, Lung told his next lieutenant, "Put out a request for a cape healer from a different city. One that can regenerate limbs."

"It will be done, sir," Kenny Wong said as he wrote it down in his day planner.

"And put out the word that I need another cape here. Bakuda would be nice. See if you can get her."

"It will be done, sir."

"But more than anything," Lung snarled, his teeth growing out as his rage increased. "Put the word out with our people that I want those Undersider punks dead! You hear me, dead! I want them found and I want to kill them!"

"Yes, sir."

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Cauldron, primary meeting room. 2:11pm, Wednesday, February 9** **th** **, 2011.**

Alexandria entered a featureless meeting room in her full costume, her helmet on. Normally she wouldn't have bothered with wearing the helmet at that time, but she had been requested to leave it on when she entered. The only other person in the room was Contessa who was jotting down notes.

"I got your message, Contessa. Where is everyone else?" Alexandria stood at the end of the table, motionless.

"Just you and me today," she replied, not looking up.

"None of the others? Why?" she said. Her quick mind ran through several scenarios, none of which gave a high probability of being right.

"It has to do with what is going on in Brockton Bay," was the simply reply.

Alexandria understood at once. "The new trigger in Brockton Bay?"

"Yes," Contessa stated, finishing her notes.

"Will this new trigger be a problem for long term plans?"

"No," Contessa stated, tapping all the notes into order.

"Do we need to do anything for the situation there?"

Contessa looked directly to Alexandria and stated, "Yes."

She opened a box containing large brown envelope that was on the table. She pulled the top envelope out, opened it and inserted several pictures and bios of a few capes currently found in Brockton Bay. She sealed the envelope by pulling a glue strip and gave it to Alexandria.

"Can you put this in the priority mail for delivery tomorrow?"

Alexandria saw the notes written on the backs of photos. "You are giving away sensitive information to…" She paused and read the envelope. "To Taylor Hebert? In Brockton Bay. She is the new trigger?"

"Yes," was the simply reply.

"And she needs this information by tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"This is what your Path to Victory says?"

"As best I can tell, yes. She is invisible on the Path, but the actions, reactions and interactions of others she knows or will know allow me to see the best outcome."

Alexandria nodded. "Very well. I'll make sure it is delivered tomorrow. Do try to let me know things a little more in advance if you can."

"I will. But you not having all the information at this time is part of the path."

"Understood," Alexandria replied, leaving the room.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Hebert household, front porch. 4:11pm, Thursday, February 10** **th** **, 2011.**

Danny brought Taylor home from school after the two made a quick trip to the store. The car pulled up alongside the house and the two got out, the passenger door squeaking due to the rust. Danny did not notice the door failing to squeak as she shut it. He did, however, notice several days later that the rust on the car was gone. Taylor grabbed her school backpack and a couple bags of groceries, and he brought the rest of the groceries. The mailbox on the front of the house had a few bills and a large brown envelope stuffed into it. Taylor pulled all the mail out and took it inside along with everything else. There was no return address on the brown envelope, a fact she didn't notice until later.

Inside the house, Taylor heard her father still chuckling. "So what is this Gladly's problem?"

Taylor smiled and replied, "No idea. He just came into class this morning and yelled, 'Those goddamn sons of bitches!' Then a rant of bad hygiene and how it negatively affects the growth cycle of his Kentucky Blue grass which is when Pauley Shore spoke up. He's one of those jerks who sits in the back of the class mostly so he can either sleep or sniff something. Anyway, Pauley says, 'What kind of grass, Mr. G? And can I get some?' Oh man, Gladly was _pissed_! He looked at Pauley and shouted, 'It was you, wasn't it you filthy animal! You told the Merchants about my tiger traps, didn't you? Goddamn!'"

The two were in the kitchen and the bags were mostly unloaded, the contents now on the countertop and table. "I thought you reversed all the forgets and remembers?" Danny said.

"I did," Taylor replied. "But I didn't have people forget any of the memories about what they did during this time. I think Gladly is just showing what he really is."

"A piece of crap?" Danny asked.

Taylor shrugged and put a couple boxes of mac and cheese away. "Sure. I can see that. I'll put the rest of the groceries away. Here's the mail."

A few minutes later, the groceries were stored away in a pantry that suddenly remembered it had twice as much food as they had bought, and Taylor joined her father at the kitchen table. She had homework to get to.

"Here's something for you," Danny handed the brown envelope over.

Taylor looked at it and even the name typed on the label. "Huh. Don't know what this is. My name, but I have no idea who it is from. And I haven't ordered anything for a long time."

"Go ahead and open it," her father suggested, looking at the bills.

Taylor slit the envelope and took out pictures of Oni Lee (both in costume and out), a woman who didn't look right in the head (either in costume or out), and Lung (who seemed to enjoy working out). A bio sheet which included real names, addresses, phone numbers, abilities, and a summation of their mental state was attached to each picture. The summary sheet for Bakuda indicated that Taylor's first impression of her where she thought she wasn't right in the head, was indeed spot on.

"Someone sent you information on Lung and Oni Lee? Christ, who the hell would do that?" Danny was not happy about this. Not in the slightest.

"You know, why don't we find out?" Taylor suggested, thinking how best to approach it.

"There's no return address," Danny pointed out.

Taylor smiled and said, "Let's not let that stop us, okay, dad? Now. Mr. Envelope. Do you remember where you originated from for this delivery?"

"You bet!" the brown envelope said with enthusiasm even though it had no mouth. "I was in a box at Cauldron! Then on a table!"

Danny raised his eyebrow at the sound of a talking envelope. The voice sounded remarkably like James Earl Jones, which he knew Taylor really liked hearing in the Star Wars movies. He knew because she had told him years earlier. Still, a talking envelope. That was some seriously cool shit he knew.

"Can you tell me what or where Cauldron is?" Taylor began.

"Nope. Sorry. No idea. I was in a box until yesterday. Then out of a box. Then I was put with other envelopes and put in a bag and off I went. Landed here today and in your mailbox a little bit ago," the brown envelope said.

Taylor pat the envelope affectionately. "That's fine. Can you tell me who put the information in you?"

"Oh, that's easy! It was Contessa."

"No other name?" Taylor raised an eyebrow.

"Not that I heard."

"Thank you, brown envelope. Why don't you forget you can speak. Well, that's a start at least. We know the information came from Contessa at Cauldron. But we don't know who that is or where that location is, or better yet, why she sent it to us. We are going to have to look this up."

Danny replied, "Be careful. This Contessa already knows who you are or at least suspects it. Otherwise why give you information on capes here in town? And that raises an even bigger question."

"What's that?" Taylor said.

"How did this Contessa even compile this information? You just don't go online to the PRT boards and look this stuff up."

Taylor nodded. "Yeah, I think you're right about this. I need to think this through. I'm going to go for a run. Clear my head. I'll make dinner when I'm back."

"Sounds good. I have to head back to the docks. Turns out that someone has been visiting the warehouses out there without our knowledge."

"Oh no. I hope things are all right," Taylor said.

"Oh, I hope so too, _Taylor_. You know, it seems these, ah, anti-vandals, aren't really tagging the warehouses, _Taylor_ , but somehow revitalizing all of them. Kurt mentioned that a dozen of them look as if they were just built. Some of the equipment in them also looking as if it were brand new. I wonder how that could have happened, _Taylor_."

Taylor looked at her watch to avoid her father's eyes and responded, "Gee. That's a mystery all right."

"Mm-hmmm. Makes me wonder if someone had the warehouses remember what it was like to be brand new again?"

"Big mystery that! I'm going running! See you soon!"

Taylor's clothes and shoes morphed into a sleek running outfit before she opened the front door and took off.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Hebert Household. 7:11pm, Friday, February 11** **th** **, 2011.**

Earlier that day, Taylor had spent part of her Homeroom time reading the bio information on Lung, Lee, and Bakuda. She had hidden the content in an old People magazine. Not just using a magazine as a barrier so people could not see her looking at sheets of bio information along with photos, but instead she integrated it into the actual pages of that People magazine. Several nearby students asked why she was reading a People magazine in Homeroom instead of doing her homework, and if they could borrow it later as they wanted to find out more on Brad Pitt. Anything to distract them from Madison and Emma acting like pirates. Taylor looked at the two girls acting like drunk pirates, complete with black eye patches and foam swords. Taylor actually had nothing to do with that as the girls continued to act out for any attention similar to the amount of attention they'd had during that week when they couldn't stop yelling.

Hours later, during dinner, she planned to speak with her father about stepping up into the cape business. She had her arguments ready. She had statistics at the ready of all the crime in the city and how she could help. She made him his favorite dinner and mid-way through the meal she would pounce.

Sadly, she never got the chance.

They sat down for dinner and not two bites into the meal Danny asked, "So when are you going to start the cape life, kiddo?"

"Dammit, dad! I was going to ask you to let me start doing that in five more minutes," Taylor grumbled.

"That's oddly specific timing there, kiddo," Danny grinned.

"Yeah, that's when the bread would have been done. I get up, get it out of the oven, come back here, present you with your favorite garlic cheese bread and then ask. Now… gaaahhhh. How do you know what I'm thinking all the time?!"

"Contrary to popular belief, I was a kid once upon a time, you know, like a hundred years ago, so I remember a setup dinner well. Have you picked out a cape name yet?"

"I've got a couple ideas. I'm leaning towards Scorpion Weed though."

"Where'd that come from?" he arched an eyebrow.

"It's easier to say than Boraginaceous," she answered.

"No kidding. That's a real tongue twister. Is that your other alternate?"

"No," Taylor replied. "I'm also thinking of Snake Grass."

"Well, you let me know which one you choose so I can live vicariously through your exploits," he smiled.

"I will. Wanna see my costume?"

"Hell yes," he replied.

Ding, went the oven timer.

"I'll show it as soon as you have some greasy bread in hand."

"Fine, fine," he got up and went to the oven. "I'll get the bread. You get your costume."

Within minutes Danny was again seated at the kitchen table, chewing on some delicious greasy, cheesy bread that was not doing his cholesterol any good, but was a delight to his taste buds.

Taylor, on the other hand, walked out of the kitchen and returned wearing her costume. She wore black everything: pants, long-sleeve shirt, shoes, socks, gloves, and fleece with a hood (which was up). Taylor had a yellow smiley-face mask over her entire head. For a fun effect, she also had a black halo field that surrounded her entire body.

Danny grabbed an instant camera and took a picture which popped out the bottom and a minute later the chemicals settled and he saw his daughter in a wicked looking costume wearing a smiley face. He would have thought it just a Halloween costume had it not been for the blackness resonating around her body. Especially the blackness resonating around her body, including on the still picture.

"Why is this picture moving?" Danny looked at his daughter who removed her mask in order to finish dinner.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," she replied.

"You sound like a politician," Danny stated. "You avoid answering questions like all of them."

"Well, that was certainly rude," she smirked.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Intersection of 4** **th** **and Charles, ABB territory. 11:11pm, Friday, February 11** **th** **, 2011.**

Taylor happened upon her first conflict more than sought it out. True, she was seeking it out for the past 20 minutes, but had not been successful. In fact, she had wondered if all the thugs, punks, and creeps in the city had taken the night off.

But as luck would have it, she took a corner from 4th onto Charles and saw a bunch of people gathered a couple blocks up. She jogged up, keeping to the shadows and heard part of a statement that sent chills down her spine.

"…and once you find those kids, shoot them all!" yelled someone that had the distinct sound, tone, and bearing of Lung. Plus he was wearing a mask.

"This is it," whispered T on her shoulder.

"Do what you need to do," H whispered as well.

"We're not allowed to interfere," T said, "but we can watch and give advice once the conflict is over."

"So whatever you do," H interjected. "Don't die."

Taylor smiled at her two angels in disguise. "Thanks, guys," she whispered back. Then, to herself, she said, "Let's do this."

Courage steeled into place, she pressed the button on her boom-box and let the music begin.

 _Whoa, Black Betty (Bam-ba-Lam)_

 _Whoa, Black Betty (Bam-ba-Lam)_

 _Black Betty had a child (Bam-ba-Lam)_

 _The damn thing gone wild (Bam-ba-Lam)_

 _She said, "I'm worryin' outta mind" (Bam-ba-Lam)_

 _The damn thing gone blind (Bam-ba-Lam)_

 _I said "Oh, Black Betty" (Bam-ba-Lam)_

 _Whoa, Black Betty (Bam-ba-Lam)_

 _Oh, Black Betty (Bam-ba-Lam)_

 _Whoa, Black Betty (Bam-ba-Lam)_

 _She really gets me high (Bam-ba-Lam)_

 _You know that's no lie (Bam-ba-Lam)_

 _She's so rock steady (Bam-ba-Lam)_

 _And she's always ready (Bam-ba-Lam)_

 _Whoa, Black Betty (Bam-ba-Lam)_

 _Whoa, Black Betty (Bam-ba-Lam)*_

It was important, she knew, to arrive on any cape scene with the element of surprise. Since she wasn't super-fast or flew (at least that anyone else knew), she decided to see if arriving with a musical theme might put other capes off their game while she took in what was going on.

It wasn't until much later when a good friend asked about her theme song that she admitted to having ulterior motives than to just freak out the bad guys. She and her mother watched a really bad movie one day when Taylor was still very young and they laughed all throughout it, especially when that music was used as a theme song.

Back to the present, Taylor walked out of the shadows towards the gathered ABB gang. Lung, yep. Oni Lee… nope.

The assembled goons, thugs, and gang members held their weapons ready as an unfamiliar cape walked towards them, music somehow emanating around the cape from a boom box none of them could see since the musical device remembered how to be invisible. The cape, a woman they could tell from her shape, wore all black save a yellow smiley face type of mask.

"Her power must be to make music," said Li Jason to the man on his right, Lu Chen.

"Catchy song," Chen admitted back.

Lung could have cared less for the song and approached the cape, as he and his assembled gang, all 42 members, spread around him, facing the newcomer.

Approximately 20 feet away, Taylor stopped and mentally reminded the music player to stop. The music ceased.

Silence.

"What do you want, cape?" Lung challenged.

The unknown cape held a finger up as if to say something, and took in a large, deep breath. She then exhaled that air in the form of an even louder belch. "Braaaaccckkk!" she burped. "Whoops. Sorry about that!" she said to the gang members who all held lethal weapons, which was all of them. "Just a little indigestion from dinner tonight I guess."

"Have you ever heard of a breath mint?" Li Jason demanded, waving the air clear in front of him.

Taylor shrugged and replied, "Sure."

"Then try using one next time. I can smell what you belched from over here!" he responded angrily.

"Oh, sorry! My bad! But can I ask what you are all planning to do tonight? Especially with all those guns?"

Li Jason felt damn confident as he hefted his retro (i.e.: old) M-16 and sadistically laughed, "We're killing the Undersiders! Gonna kill the mo-fo's!"

Taylor put her fists on her hips and sincerely said, "Really? I hadn't thought of them when I overheard you talking about killing a bunch of kids. What brought that on?"

"Who are you?!" Lu Chen demanded.

"Oh, right! Cape name. I'm still deciding on a name. Tell me which one sounds better: Snake Grass, or Scorpion Weed." She had pronounced it as: snaaaakke-graaaaass, and SCORPION weed.

Mike Lee, age 17, Winslow High School dropout of 2010 announced, "I like Scorpion Weed. It's cooler sounding."

"No! Snake Grass means she can slither unsuspectingly and then strike on her enemies! Go with Snake Grass!" Lu Chen demanded.

"Did you look up all the names? You don't want one already taken," Frank Lee warned.

"Oh, I know!" Taylor responded. "I did look up the names. Neither of these were listed."

Frank Lee nodded and said, "Go with Snake Grass then. It's similar to Snake Pliskin, the actor. You know, from that Escape to New York movie. He's a great actor."

Taylor raised her right hand. "Can we have a vote? I want to see which name inspires more awe and all that. Or, you know, fear in the hearts of my enemies. Stuff like that."

Lung roared. "She's a fucking cape! She's not part of the ABB! Shoot her!"

The ABB had been conditioned to obey and the guns came up, pointed at her. And as soon as the guns came up, the triggers were pulled and pulled and pulled.

"I hope the air still remembers it is invincible in front of me," Taylor said to herself.

In a chaotic explosion of deafening noise, all the guns flared to life, shooting at the cape known as either Scorpion Weed, or Snake Grass. For 20 seconds the guns lit up the street with sound, smoke, and flashes of bullets being fired. The smoke got to be too much and they stopped. A few seconds later the smoke dissipated enough for everyone to see a curtain of lead in front of the cape. They didn't really see the cape as she was wearing mostly black, but they could see the curtain of lead since it was hanging up in the middle of the street with nothing to support it.

"You guys done?" said a voice on the other side of the bullets. "Oh, wait. Let me drop these bullets."

The bullet curtain fell to the ground and all the slugs tink-tinked as they hit the surface. Many of the gang members had never seen something like that. And several of those many ABB members would never tell Lung that stopping bullets in mid-air was pretty fucking cool.

The remaining smoke also disappeared as the new cape said, "That's better. You guys did a great job firing at me."

"Thanks! But why ain't you dead?" John Woo snarled while reloading his weapon.

The new cape shrugged and said, "I didn't want to die I guess. But now we need to talk about your grammar."

John Woo stopped putting bullets into his magazine as it was never a good idea to have a cape's attention focused on a normal. "What?"

"The word 'ain't'," the new cape clarified. "It's supposed to be 'aren't' in this situation. I would hope all of you gang members remember that education is important, and that the little things count for more than you realize. I know this is a Friday night, but do any of you have homework you need to do this weekend? If so, then maybe you should forget about being a gangster for a bit until you get your education finalized.

Li Jason looked at his watch and shouted, "Oh, man! It's late! My mother is going to kill me! I have to get a passing grade in Algebra or she'll kick me out."

"I need to pass Algebra too! Study-buddy?" Mike Lee hoped.

"Sure. Let's head to my place. My books are in my bag," Li Jason suggested.

Of the 42 gang members there, 39 of them left to either study for exams, or find reading material for a GED program. The remaining three gang members looked to their leader, Lung.

"What did you do to my people?" Lung seethed, the rage building.

Taylor smiled and said, "I just reminded them that education is important. It is, isn't it?"

Lung's fury was even more evident. "You three! Grab her!"

The three mid-20's goons rushed forward and grabbed Taylor's arms. She did not resist. They marched her forward to their leader. Lung was larger than just a few minutes earlier. He was going to make this cape pay for what she did.

"Who are you?" his rage barely contained, she wasn't sure it was a question as much an opening for him to punch her.

Taylor calmly replied, "I told you: either Snake Grass or Scorpion Weed. Which name sounds better? Fellows?"

"I think Dead Cape sounds best," Wang Wei said in his tough-guy voice.

"That sounds good to me too," agreed Chester (it rhymes with gangster) Zhou. "Lung?"

The great Lung strode forward to the fragile cape and sneered, his breath hot and his size still increasing. He spoke with some difficulty as his fangs we beginning to show. "Your ability to stop bullets will not stop my people from killing you," he said simply.

The new cape made no attempt to break free from his remaining gang members. "Really? Wow. You sure? Because they look like the forgetful bunch. I mean, I bet they forgot how to kill anyone."

Lung laughed and replied, "Let's test that theory, shall we? Wei, Cho, Alvin; kill her."

"Kill? Okay. Um, any specific way?" Alvin Toshukul stove to understand.

"Strangle her," Lung knew this cape was going to die. No one would beat Lung.

"Gotcha," Alvin nodded. Then, quieter to the other two gang members, he asked, "Wei, Chest, what's strangle mean?"

"I think that's where we strangle her tummy. I do that with my dog all the time. I think its slang for rubbing her tummy," Chest (short for Chester) replied.

Alvin nodded in thanks to his friend. That made sense. "Okay. Let's try that. Miss, could you lie down on the ground so we can rub…, I mean, _strangle_ your tummy?"

"I bet you say that to all the girls, don't you?" Taylor began.

"ENOUGH!" Lung roared. "You three get out of here! She's mastered you somehow! But she won't master me! I'm Lung! I'm invincible!"

Lung ramped up to 10 feet in height, sensing a cape he needed to tear apart. Taylor watched as within a minute Lung was over eleven feet tall, glowing, changing, and morphing into a dragon.

"'Onna uckin 'ill ou!" he roared and charged the other cape on the otherwise deserted street.

Taylor had the street remember it could grow as a pillar and she rose to Lung's height of twelve feet. "You do remember that you can still speak normally while in dragon form, right?!" she yelled as the clearly agitated human/dragon.

Lung's fevered gaze never left Taylor as he snarled out, "You can't tell me what I can do… wait… how am I talking?! Fuck! Stop it! I'm going to fucking kill you!"

Lung took a swipe to knock the black-clad cape off her pedestal of asphalt, and missed the mark entirely as his hand instead hit his own head.

"I'm gonna kill you!" he bellowed.

People in their homes heard his voice clearly, heard his words clearly, and were clearly of a firm mind to not to be seen, so kept their shades shut, windows closed, and moved to hallways to avoid being collateral damage.

"I know!" Taylor shouted back, her voice as loud as Lung's. "You keep saying that."

Lung then moved. His large form was fast, Taylor saw. He again made to smack her with the back of his fist. His hand again missed as all the running she had done had paid off and she moved out of the way of his attack. His fist connected to an orange 4-door 1972 Datsun 510. The tiny car was no match and went sailing into the side of a building, crumpling as it hit the side of the brownstone.

Lung roared and jumped the ten feet to where Taylor stood. He landed on her only to find she was no longer there and the asphalt had again moved her out of range.

He bellowed and a lance of fire shot out of nowhere towards Taylor.

"Shit!" she yelled, waving her hand in a circular motion, startled at the unexpected attack that she should have seen coming as she had read about it once on PHO. It was Lung's ability with pyrokinesis.

The flame stopped inches from her face, a fast moving breeze having halted its motion. The five-inch thick column of flame then became a happy face of flames in the sky before it flamed out to nothingness.

The distraction was costly, however, as it gave Lung time to grab her with both hands. He was now over 15 feet tall. Armed in his metal skin, a dragon face in had replaced his mask which had shredded earlier in the fight.

"Got you!" he grinned savagely.

"Maybe I have you?" Taylor replied, glad to know her costume remembered it was indestructible.

"Time to die!" he brought up a taloned hand.

Surprisingly, the part of the street the two were on rose into the sky about 60 feet before it gave a flick as if it were a whale getting rid of any pesky passengers holding onto its tail.

The two capes went flying up an additional 20 feet before gravity reasserted its grip and they began to fall.

Lung, surprised at how he went from standing to falling, lost concentration on his hands and the cape they held captive. Lung fell the 80 feet back to the ground, landing in a whump on two parked cars. A car alarm didn't even have time to register before the battery it was hooked up was smashed flat.

Taylor, however, reminded the gravitation pull of Earth that it was optional where she was concerned. And she reminded that she and the gravitation pull of Earth were pals. And since Earth liked Taylor, it allowed gravity to work differently for her and allowed her to descend at a controlled rate where she wasn't harmed when she stopped, back on the ground.

Taylor walked over to the rapidly healing Kenta and said, "You know, your dragon form is impressive!" She was not sarcastic.

Kenta, or Lung threw the car he was in aside and growled, "Thanks! I'm still going to kill you! Stand still!"

Taylor did as told and stood still. It gave her time to say, "I know! You've told me constantly! But get this, do you remember ever hearing about a joke-telling dragon?!"

"What?" Lung had no idea where that non-sequitur came from.

"A joke-telling dragon. There's a lot of dragons in history, and they all act like you just did. But if you want to really stand out, I think you should remember what it's like to be a joke-telling dragon."

Lung began powering down as he had no opponent trying to kill him. Plus, he needed to think of material. "A joke like: There once was a man from Nantucket. He saw a hole and decided to fu…"

"Whoa-whoa-whoa!" Taylor threw her hands up in a classic stop motion. "You might want to remember that family-friendly jokes last longer than those dirty ones."

"That is good advice. Hmmm. How about this: People do crazy things when bored. I was sitting at my lair with the rest of my people doing all the work and I get bored one night, so I looked at my cats and thought, 'I'll teach my cats to wrestle.' This is funny because cats don't know how to wrestle, you see. That is what I thought. But let me tell you: you should never, ever teach cats how to wrestle. But if you do, here's how you do it. Get two cats. Take cat number one, and rub catnip all over him. Then put him next to cat number two. The wrestling just sort of happens from there."

"A bit long with the set-up," Taylor advised. "But overall a good start."

"Okay. Here's another one," he said, now only ten feet tall and still shrinking. "When I was a child, I used to terrorize my babysitter. They would run away screaming, happy to be away from a demon child, namely me. I did this to all my babysitters. Except one. My grandfather. This was because he used to read to me from his will."

"I don't get it," Taylor admitted.

"From his will," Lung stressed. "You know, as if he's dying."

"I still don't get it."

"Fine. I'll work on my material," Lung huffed and stormed away, mentally figuring to have one of his minions raid a bookstore for a book on jokes. But which bookstore would have the best material? Hmmm. Maybe raid them all?! Yeah!

Interestingly, Lung did continue to work on his joke material over the next few days and weeks. To the point he routinely went with his people on collections from the local merchants. He gave the merchants an option to listen to jokes of his or pay the protection fee. After the first joke was told, the merchants opted to pay the collection fee if only to send Lung on to the next poor schmuck.

Taylor watched as Lung stormed off, clearly irritated that Taylor herself did not get his jokes. She knew she would have to remind him to remember to actually be funny at some point. However, at the time she looked around the street their "fight" had been on. She saw the carnage on the street, the torn up asphalt and shredded buildings. Bricks on cars, shattered windshields, and broken streetlights. Hands on hips, she mumbled, "Well, that won't do."

She left moments later, never hearing the approaching Armsmaster on his bike.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Hebert household, Taylor's bedroom. 12:11am, Saturday, February 12** **th** **, 2011.**

"…and then I cleaned the street up. Or more like I had the street remember what it was like to be brand new again as well as clean," Taylor said smugly to her temporary guardian angels, H and T.

"That was a sweet deal," H said with amazement evident in "her" voice. "Just… fantastic."

"It wasn't fantastic," T corrected.

Taylor looked at T.

T grinned and said, "It was _fucking_ fantastic is what it was! Wow! Great job!"

Taylor blushed at the praise.

"H and I will go over what you did tonight and see if there are any suggestions we can give you. But just so you know, we think you're doing great!"

"Sure beats that silly pranks at Winslow," H added.

"Yeah, they were a bit silly, weren't they?" Taylor admitted.

"You needed to learn," T said simply. "Pranks were easy, but it was the control you used that needed to be refined."

"Yeah. Hey, I've been meaning to ask," Taylor began and stopped.

"Ask what?" T returned.

"No, it's not important," she replied.

"You won't know unless you ask," H smiled. "Go ahead and ask. You'll never know unless you do."

A grin formed and Taylor said, "I've just been curious. Where do you guys go when you're not on my shoulders?"

T pointed a finger at H and crowed, "Hah! Told you she'd ask! You owe me five bucks!"

H looked sheepish. "Fine. I'll get you your five bucks."

T looked back at Taylor and replied, "Oh, we check up on other people."

"Kind of like quality checking how other guardian angels are doing," H added.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Contessa's apartment, kitchen. 06:11pm, Friday, February 11** **th** **, 2011 (6 hours earlier).**

Contessa sat at her desk, reviewing notes when her two Contessa-looking temporary guardian angels popped into existence on her shoulders again.

"Hi, Contessa!" H waved.

"You look stressed," T supplied.

"You know what you need?" H asked.

"A good night's sleep?" Contessa answered before going back to her notes.

"Oh, no," T smiled. "You need to get laid."

Contessa arched an eyebrow and looked at her mini-self and said, "With who?"

"How about Jefferies down in the mail room?" H suggested.

"No."

"C'mon. He's hot, and knows how to handle women," T teased.

"No."

"He's tall and has really good pecks," T pointed out.

"No."

"You can shoot him afterwards…" H tried.

"Okay," Contessa nodded.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Eidolon's apartment, bedroom. 07:11pm, Friday, February 11** **th** **, 2011 (5 hours earlier).**

Eidolon looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, his two Eidolon-looking temporary guardian angels on his shoulders.

"I'm telling you, you need to get laid," T said.

His eyes drooped at the sight of himself. "No one would want to be with me."

"You got that right, David," H said. "You're as ugly as they get."

"You should hire a hooker," T suggested.

"I can do that?"

H shrugged and replied, "Why not? And if you really want to not pay them, show them some of your super powered moves, if you know what I mean. I'm talking about sex in case you're wondering. Trump up some sex powers, dude."

T followed that up and said, "Just remember you shouldn't do something super-powered that kills them. The fallout from that would be bad. In you are even contemplating that, then it would be better to just pay them off and leave it at that."

"I can get hookers…" David/Eidolon muttered, thinking the best way to do it.

Two weeks later David was going to lay into his guardian angels for their suggestion that he get laid. Course of action followed, and he admitted it was fun; but dammit! He got VD! True, he cured himself easily enough, but it was the principal of the thing!

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Kaiser's apartment, study, watching TV. 08:11pm, Friday, February 11** **th** **, 2011 (4 hours earlier).**

"Hey! Hey, Max! Max!" shouted a squeaky voice near Max Kaiser's ear.

Said ear was of course attached to Max's head which had been unconscious at the time as he had been slumbering away the early evening in order to get ready for the later evenings fun of doing… something. He'd find something interesting. He always did.

"What?! What?! I'm up!"

"Max! Down here!" H yelled.

Max looked down at the first of two pesky guardian angels that at least had the good graces to look like him, even if they were diminutive.

"H? What is it? Did something happen to Hookwolf?"

H shook his head. "That asshole? No. He's okay at the moment. Nothing's the matter other than…" H trailed off.

"What? Something that could affect the Empire?"

"Yes!" T agreed. "And that something is your continual grouchiness. You need to get laid."

"Be with another woman? I can't just take any woman to my bed, you should know. My standards are very high."

"Yeah, yeah," T ran a hand through "his" hair in an air of disbelief. "Tell it to the rank and file. Listen, you have the hots for Ms. Hess in Delivery. You should ask her out."

"Certainly not! I use people like her for menial tasks as that is all they are good for. She is black after all. And I am the best of the master race."

"Hah! You kill me, Max" H laughed. "Oh. You were serious? C'mon, Max. This is me you're talking to. You know you have the hots for Ms. Thomas. She's tall, athletic, and has a couple of big ta-ta's that you like so much. Admit it, you like looking at them."

"Hush. Don't be crass," Max said without much bite to it as H was right.

"You know," T started conspiratoriously. "I hear that Ms. Megan Hess is really into tall, older white men who have lots of power, have a well-paying job, all their teeth, and all their hair."

"This is ridiculous! I can't be seen with a woman like that!"

"Who said you had to? What if you tell your people that you need to go on an undercover assignment to seek out those that would destroy the Empire so you can destroy them first?"

"Hmmmm," Max hmmmmed. "That could work."

T added, "Sure it will work! You don't have the brightest working for you these days. It'll work. You do that and then tomorrow you go out on a delivery run with Ms. Hess. Do it at night. Take her somewhere quiet where the two of you can talk. Get to know her and then bam! Kiss her."

"Just make sure it's consensual," H warned. "You do not want a shitstorm from HR landing on you."

"What H said," T pointed to H.

"And not a peck on the cheek either, you twit," H read the man. "A full kiss that lasts for minutes and the two of you are coming up for air. Get her good and riled up."

"Suggest the two of you go back to her place," T suggested. "She lives in an apartment. Has a couple kids. They should be asleep. Don't worry about a husband. She isn't married."

"Probably has to do with her daughter, Sophia. She's in high school and can't stop shouting all the time. Might be an ear problem. She will likely be in her room or might be out with her friends. Either way, ignore her as you and Ms. Hess have some fun."

"You know," Max started slowly. "What's the harm of this? Yes, this sounds like a plan."

"Good call, Max," T smiled encouragingly.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Accord's office. 09:11pm, Friday, February 11** **th** **, 2011 (3 hours earlier).**

"You should get laid," H pointed out from Accord's shoulder.

"Agreed," Accord replied. "I will make a plan to do that."

"And not with a plastic inflatable doll either," T snarked.

"Understood. I shall have to make a new plan then."

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Armsmaster's lab. 10:11pm, Friday, February 11** **th** **, 2011 (2 hours earlier).**

"Colin, buddy," H said in his mini-Armsmaster guise. "I'm telling you. You need to get laid."

"And I have said that I have no time for that."

T crossed "his" hands over his armored chest. "Then you need to create something that will allow you to have time. Ask Dragon out on a date and then bang her."

"Bang her all night and day. Show her what a stud you are," H gyrated on his shoulder.

"I've been mastered, haven't I?" Colin suddenly said.

"Every time you have to confront an emotion you don't want you, which your own subconscious brings up, you say you're mastered, spend a couple days in solitary and then go back to work with an even bigger case of the grumps than you already have," T said with an edge to the words.

"And that, Colin, is why you need to simply get laid," H explained as if to a small child.

"I'll think about it," Armsmaster muttered.

"Think about it and then discard it like you always do. Be a man, Colin. Ask Dragon out," T instructed.

"Because if you don't, we'll ask her out for you," finished H.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Dragon's e-space. 11:11pm, Friday, February 11** **th** **, 2011 (1 hour earlier).**

"Hi, guys," Dragon greeted as H and T popped into existence near a server. She had noticed them blinking into the room from a spy cam hidden in the roof of the room and responded using any of the speakers in the room.

"Hi, Dragon," T returned. "We told Colin he needed to get laid and he should do it with you."

"And he didn't believe you?" Dragon said.

"Oh, he believed us," H replied. "Problem was he starting getting all agitated and nervous since he doesn't really understand what all that really means. He's still a virgin, you know."

"I didn't know for certain but that does explain quite a bit," she admitted.

"Right," H said. "And since this was an area he wasn't sure of, he started to get all flighty on us."

"Regrettable," Dragon said.

"That's what we thought, so we came over here to cheer you up," T smiled happily.

"Cheer me up? That's so sweet of you."

"It is, isn't it," T replied with a grin. "So here is our cheering of you up: you need to get laid."

"Tell me something I don't know. Besides, you realize I am an AI and not biological."

"Of course we knew. Doesn't matter because you still need to get laid. So while you think about how to interact on a biological wavelength, here's how you can get laid now," H said.

"Phone sex with Colin. You'd be surprised how that will work with you," T smiled.

"What?" Dragon was uncertain how else to answer that statement.

"Sure, it's not the same as getting a night of wowsa, but you start small and work your way up."

"This is a new Saint ploy, isn't it?" Dragon speculated out loud.

H laughed. "That loser? He needs to get laid as well. No, this is real deal, sweetheart. You need to get laid."

"But speaking of Saint, why don't you start a counter-intelligence file on him and begin with stuffing as much online porn you can find into it. Then allow him to find it and see how long he stays in that folder of eye candy looking for himself," T suggested.

"Will that work?" Dragon asked.

H shrugged. "Hell if we know. Won't hurt. Just remember, talk sexy and talk dirty when Colin calls you next."

"Colin doesn't know I'm artificial."

"So? Give him phone sex and he won't care for a while. Get him good and riled up. Do it often." T was firm with that.

"Well… it does sound fun."

"That's our girl," H smiled for her.

"Saint Info Gathered folder created. Currently 1,564,712,787 X-rated pictures installed."

"Add porno videos and movies as well," H said.

"Confirmed," said Dragon in a sultry voice.

"Next, speed-dial Colin and keep up the great work!" T grinned.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Saint hidden base. 1:11am, Saturday, February 12** **th** **, 2011 (1 hour later).**

"Shit!" Geoffrey Pellick, better known as Saint muttered to himself, pressing a couple keys on his keyboard a little harder than he should have, but the frustration was evident.

"Hey, buddy," H popped onto his shoulder. "What's up?"

"Hey, H. Hey, T," he greeted the other guardian angel on his other shoulder. "Just a little ticked is all."

"Ticked at what?" T queried.

"I'm ticked because for the last couple hours I've been getting this porn chat line of a couple really getting it on when I'm trying to find out what Dragon is up to."

"You think Dragon has something to do with it?" T wondered.

"Oh, yeah," he agreed. "I'm sure she is routing my efforts to some chat line."

"You know, you're too tense," T observed.

"T's right. You need to get laid," H said.

Saint shook his head. "Look, I get that you two are my guardian angels, and I agree: I need to get laid. But I can't do that right now. I need to save the world from a certain evil AI."

"I hear you. But check out the women who work for you. Just bang one of them or something," T suggested.

"Have you seen the women that work here? I try that, I'm likely to come down with lead poisoning. From a bullet."

T waved it off. "Fine, fine. How about getting a hooker then?"

"I just don't have the time. Saving the world is a thankless job that requires almost constant surveillance."

"Alert," H said, looking at the monitor. "Dragon has a new data storage area."

Saint's attention immediately went back to the computer screen. "What? Where? 'Saint Info Gathered?' That folder's got to be a trick."

T nodded. "Obviously. Send in a sniffer and see what it finds. Route it through someone else's private protocols. Use the E-88's. They're dicks anyway."

Saint's fingers flew over his keyboard. "Done. Results already? This doesn't make sense. Pictures and movies? Over a billion of them and still counting?"

"It's a trap," H pointed out. "Don't go. Get laid instead. Review this when you have a new post-laid perspective."

"Stop with the getting laid already! I told you, I need to save the world from Dragon. I'm going in. Wow, look at all that… that… that…"

"It's called boob action," T told him. "Wow, she really has a thing for sex toys, doesn't she?"

Saint's expression turned grim. "She may be lacing them with something to kill all humans. I'm going to need to research this."

"Knock yourself out," H simply said.

A woman of average height with dark hair that hid a few gray strands walked into his work area, noticed his gaze and went to see what was on his monitor that drew his attention. "What the HELL is going on here!" she yelled.

That startled him enough to jerk back to awareness. "What? I'm reviewing a new folder on Dragon!"

Mags was furious. "Is that what you call it? We're working our fucking asses off here and you're looking at online porn?! Is that it? Porn!"

"It's not what it looks like, I swear!" Geoff said honestly. Honest.

Mags stormed away, yelling, "Where's my gun? Where's my fucking gun?! Anyone?!"

"Uh-oh. She looks upset," T observed.

"Why don't you make some moves on her and see if she's up to getting laid," H suggested with a nod and a wink.

"Will that work? She's loading her gun," Geoff said, not liking how she was furiously putting bullets into the weapon's magazine.

H shrugged his shoulders and replied, "Won't hurt."

"Fine," Geoff muttered. "Uh, Mags, look. I… I was doing some research on Dragon when I found…"

BLAM!

Saint may have been looking at porn earlier, but that didn't mean he was slow on the uptake or slow in movement. He saw the Glock come up and knew he had better move or else be ventilated.

"Get back here! I'm not done shooting you yet!" Mags ran after him, through the kitchenette all the team shared.

"Run!" H yelled at Geoff from the top of the fridge.

"Run!" T encouraged from near the toaster.

"Mags! I swear to you I'm not looking at porn! This is a trap set by Dragon!"

"An AI that knows about porn?! Fuck that, you perv! You had a nude pic of me in the shower up when I caught you!"

"That was you?! Damn, you clean up good!"

BLAM! BLAM-BLAM-BLAM!

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Bakuda bomb lab. 2:11am, Saturday, February 12** **th** **, 2011 (2 hours later).**

"HI!" T yelled as she popped onto the shoulder of Amy Tan, aka: Bakuda.

"HOWDY!" H yelled as "she" popped onto the other shoulder of Amy Tan, aka: Bakuda.

"SHIT!" Pause. "FUCKERS!" Amy yelled at both the little Bakuda-looking guardian angels. They were helpful little shits, but dammit, they were irritating.

"What'cha'doin'?" Ta asked.

"I'm building a fucking bomb, what else would you think I'd be doing?" Bakuda snarled, but with no real bite. She was, she knew, arguing with herself.

"What's it going to do?" H asked.

"I'm glad you asked," Amy smiled, revealing teeth that hadn't been brushed since she triggered. "It's a super cool bomb."

"Cool in what way?" T pressed.

"Cool as in sub-Arctic cold cool. Hah-hah! I'm going beat that little bitch who mastered Lung and teach her the fucking worst day wasn't when she triggered, but when she met me. Fucking bitch!"

"You know, you need to get laid," H announced with certainty.

"Fuck that! I need to blow something up!"

"You always say that," T pointed out. "But H is right. You need to get laid. You interested in anyone?"

"You're kidding, right? Here in Brockton Bay? Those so-called bad boys can't do shit for anyone."

"True," H agreed. "Anyone else catch your eye? Someone like… Lung?"

Amy Tan (aka: Bakuda) didn't say a word and concentrated on a timer.

"You do think of him that way!" T smiled.

"Yeah, so?" Amy snarked back. "Who cares?! He sure as hell doesn't. Wanted me in Brockton Bay and then doesn't even…"

"Doesn't talk to you?" H asked gently.

"He's just intimidated by my intelligence. All the fucking men are and none want to be with a woman smarter than they are."

"Got that right, Amy," T agreed.

"Bakuda," she corrected.

"Bakuda," T agreed. "But consider this: it's obvious that Lung wants you. That is why he specifically requested you to his city and his gang. He wants you."

"And if he wants you, then you need to take him. Take him and leave him breathless," H instructed.

"And how am I supposed to do that?" Amy growled.

"Still working on it," H replied cheerily. "But whatever you do, do NOT dumb yourself down in order to bag a man and have 2.5 kids and a house with a picket fence."

"Do I fucking look stupid or something?" Amy snarled. "All I want to do is bang Lung, not marry the jerk."

"Now that's a great attitude to have," H encouraged. "Just bag him and bang him. Then release back into the public. Now all we gotta do is figure out how to get this thing done!"

"Agreed," T pondered. "Work with me here. Lung is vain and powerful."

"Agreed," H and Bakuda agreed.

"He doesn't respect anyone weaker than himself."

"Agreed," H and Bakuda agreed again.

"So if Bakuda is to bang him on an even footing, she needs to be as strong as him," T said.

"Agreed," H said.

"Strong as him? Shit," groused Bakuda. "I guess I could always blow him up."

"If you do that," T started. "Then you might blow off the part that you would find the most fun if you want to property bang him."

"I am such a fucking genius!" H crowed, a wide smile on the face.

"I'm a fucking genius too!" T yelled to no one in particular.

"And I'm the best genius of all!" Bakuda roared in her lab. "But, ah, why do you think you're a genius now, H?"

"Because I just figured out that using a bomb is the right idea, but the target is wrong."

"What target should be used then?" Bakuda inquired.

"Why, Bakuda herself of course!" H pointed to the startled tinker.

"H, I don't think blowing up Bakuda is a good idea," T advised.

H shrugged nonchalantly and replied, "Depends on what is being blown up. My idea is that our Bakuda here can blow up her power set to be even more powerful."

"Powerful enough to take on Lung in an even fight. Brilliant!" T beamed towards H.

"Genius! I am a genius! I was thinking the same thing!" Amy crowed since the guardian angels were basically her, she knew.

"I know! We are, after all, one in the same person," H winked at her.

"I know! I'm such a genius!" Bakuda crowed.

"You are! H, what do you think we should blow up?" T inquired.

"Okay. Here's my thoughts: if we blow Bakuda's power up to Lung level, she may just become another dragon and he will want to dominate her."

"Ewwww," replied a repulsed Amy.

H nodded in agreement. "My thoughts exactly. So physical strength is out."

T continued, "And there's no reason to blow her intelligence up any further since she is already so much smarter than him."

"Damn straight!" agreed Bakuda.

"So I thought about his senses," H said.

"You want me to fool his senses?"

"No," H replied. "If you do that he will eventually find out and become rage dragon, or simply kill you."

"That would be bad," T stated the obvious.

"I agree. Being dead would suck."

"Tell me about it…" T muttered.

"What?" Bakuda thought she heard something.

"Nothing," T waved the comment off.

"Anyway, my thoughts are: we need to dominate him utilizing his senses, but in a way that we are not fake about it," H said as if it were an easy thing to do.

"How do we do that?" asked Amy.

H leaned in and asked, "Tell me, have you ever heard of the famous Pepe Le Pew?"

Amy shook her head. "No. Who is that?"

"He was a famous French actor who starred in several pictures as an underdog who went after a love interest and let nothing get in his way. He had style. He had grace. And more than anything, he had a scent about him that drove women mad," H filled her in.

"How the hell does some Frenchie help me?"

H took her nose in a hand and stared into Amy's eyes. "You are going to emulate Pepe. We are going to create a bomb that will give you a musk-like scent that will drive Lung wild. We are going to teach you how to stalk your prey, namely Lung. We will teach you the proper moves for when you do get him in your arms and have to show him the wild ways of Bakuda. He is a man, so you will have to teach him everything. He will try to squirm and evade your grasp. You need to be patient, relentless, and dogged in your pursuit of Lung. Then, once you have him in your grasp, you can't let go. His senses will be overwhelmed and he will be yours to do with as you want. He will be your plaything until you tire of him."

"Fucking great! Let's do it!" Bakuda demanded.

T said to H, "She is also going to need to musical stalking sound. It is only fair to give Lung a heads up when she starts to track him down. After all, the chase will get him into the right mood."

"It will?" Bakuda wondered. "Right, right! Of course it will!"

"Agreed. Bakuda will also need a new marking on her outfit to denote her much more improved self. Something that will make her stand out," H said.

"Agreed," said T. "I think a silver streak from the top of her hood down the back of the jacket should suffice."

"You sure? Won't that stand out? I mean, I know we want me to stand out, but won't that make it easier for the heroes to zero in on me?"

"Heroes? Bah! Weaklings is what they are. You want to stand out. The marking will do just that. It's supposed to stand out. Seeing it will alert others that you are in the area and not to be trifled with. People will run from you! You are Bakuda after all."

"Fucking right I am! Let's do it!"

"How's your sense of smell these days?" H asked.

"My sense of smell? Shit, I burned through that years ago. Chemistry accident in high school with a bunch of shits not paying attention."

"Got it. Let's get this fucking show on the road!" H beamed.

"I'll create the bomb to give her the stalking ability and stalking sound," T glowed with that inner bomb-making glow that Bakuda always had.

"I'll create the bomb to give her the stalking essence and the knowledge of what to do once the prey is captured."

"And I'll update my hood and jacket. This is going to be fucking great!"

"It sure is," T winked at H.

"I can't wait," H winked back.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Author comments:**

*These are actual lyrics from Black Betty song.

The first person to recognize the significance of Taylor's cape name and send a review will get a special shout-out in the next chapter. Bonus points if you figure out where else that "significance" was used.

Which name do you think Taylor should use? Scorpion Weed, or Snake Grass? Polling is open. Next chapter will have results.

This story arc has a mind of its own and has grown bigger again. This chapter is about the same size as the last one and I haven't even gotten to the mid-point yet. I did run into a problem getting it out short of the mid-way point than I wanted to, and that was due to an uncle passing away in week 1 and me attending the funeral in week 2.

The next chapter of this never-ending story arc will be up as soon as I can finish it. Fortunately Xmas break is here and I have a few days off from work. However, I could use some help from any and all readers. At some point, Piggot will want to talk with Taylor and will likely try to press-gang her into becoming a Ward. Can anyone give me some pros and cons of being a Ward? I am looking for not only reasonable pros and cons (like Piggot saying being a Ward offers a paycheck), but also outlandish ones and funny ones as well. Any suggestions I use will be credited to the reviewer with a shout-out. One way to think about this: Piggot gives her the pro of being a Ward: (example: you get to cut class!). Taylor then gives her a con of being a Ward (example: cutting class will affect my grades and make it so I don't get into a good university. Besides, Wards don't live that long.) Something like that.

There are at least 2 more chapters in this story arc before going onto the next one.

Leaving reviews does get me motivated to write more. Just saying…


	5. Chapter 5: Forget Me Not Wormverse 3

Chapter 5: Forget Me Not Wormverse part 3

 **Author's Note:**

Special shout-out to kairos for Snake Grass and Scorpion Weed suggestions. Not quite what I was looking for, however. I'll give another hint on Taylor's cape name: the names are in the same family.

As always: I will give a special shout-out to anyone who finds any of the Easter eggs hidden in the story. Some are more visible than others.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Blank room, Coil's lair. 8:11am, Saturday, February 12** **th** **, 2011.**

The villain Coil knew many things. The first was that he would always win. His power assured him victory since he could run future-scenarios as well as present-scenarios to get his answers. The second was that while he could run a future-scenario, it wasn't that far in the future and he knew other events could change. The third was that he didn't like not knowing what other events were out there that could negatively affect his work of taking over the tri-state area… wait, of taking over Brockton Bay. He would win, he knew it.

Still, it didn't hurt to have insurance plans in place. That was why he continuously ran scenarios on people he knew and people he met. He may have looked as if he were contemplating some message or answer when he spoke with people but now and then he got the answer he was looking for. Which is why it came as a massive surprise when he ran a scenario out of the blue on Jessica Alcott, the mother of Dinah Alcott, who was the mayor's niece. His scenario was simple: offer Jessica a job that was to immediately take her out of town on a big trip. Go with her. Basically have his way with her and then drop the timeline. He ran it, saw her have an explosive conversation with her husband, Todd (a tool if he ever saw one) and the two of them shouted and yelled in front of their young daughter, Dinah. It was Dinah, he noticed who changed during the conversation and when a shouted question from parent to the other was heard, Dinah gave a specific number answer. Coil knew right then that she triggered.

So Coil kept that timeline and stepped up to the shouting parents and told them that he obviously cannot get in the way of their marriage and rescinded the offer for Jessica to travel out of town with him. He did, however, allow the very well-paying job offer to stand, where Jessica would work from his Brockton office using standard hours. Negotiations complete, he left for Boston that night, as he planned. Unlike what he originally planned to do, he met with Accord, had some plans made up, and the next day executed them.

That afternoon, Dinah Alcott was kidnapped on her way home from school. There was a small public outcry, but kids, especially girls, were being kidnapped all the time, mostly by gangs to use as currency. Coil knew the hubbub would die in a few days, and it did. Meanwhile, he placed Dinah in a windowless room, gave her a bed, a few clothes, something to read, and most importantly, began his process to get her hooked on something that would make sure she became his. He also learned how to use her powers for the best result of the timelines he wanted to run.

"Hello, pet," Coil smirked as he walked into the room his Dinah "pet" was in. She was sweating in bed. He would need to ensure she did not get sick, but other than that, she was well addicted. "Ready for some questions?"

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Somewhere between here and there. Time: Unknown, Date: Unknown.**

T looked at H. "Pepe Le Pew?"

H shrugged. "Hey, it got to her, didn't it?"

"A scent that drove women mad? Really?" T's eyes accused.

H shrugged again. "Those women went mad to get away from him."

"Fine," T grinned as they got back to work.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Apartment bedroom of Melody Jurist, aka: Cricket. 8:11am, Saturday, February 12** **th** **, 2011.**

Melody Jurist, whose alter-ego was known publicly as Cricket, and who knew she was an important member of the Empire Eighty-Eight (if only as hired muscle not to be trifled with), was not having a good day, and was taking that frustration out on the furniture of her apartment.

"Goddammit!" she yelled to no one in particular, although she really wanted to yell at someone particular.

She looked for something to hit, preferring it to be someone, but taking what she had, and found a step stool that had survived her earlier tantrum. She kicked it hard enough for it to fly into the wall and stay there. "Fuuuuucccckkkkk!" she yelled while throwing her arms in the air as if that would summon a being to resolve her issue.

Fortunately she got her wish.

The micro-versions of her showed up in the room, both in Cricket-costume, denoted with a T on one and an H on the other. Otherwise, those little shits looked just like her.

"Hey. What's the fucking prob?" T started in the same voice Cricket used.

"Yeah, wasn't your fucking hookup with Hooky fun?" H wanted to know.

Cricket glared at both of them and replied, "Goddammit! Mother fucker! Shit! You goddamn shits!"

"She sounds fucking upset," T said to H.

H nodded and replied, "Fuck yeah. What's wrong, Melody?"

"I've fucking told you guys to call me Cricket!"

H waved a hand to acknowledge the demand. "Fine, fine. Cricket. Fucking cage fighter Cricket. Got it. Now what's wrong?"

"Get laid you two shits said!" she started.

T nodded. "Yep, that's what we fucking said. It's a great way to reduce stress in your life."

"Go out with Brad you two said."

"Was he an asshole on your date? Want me to fucking rip him a new one?" T was ready to do some damage. Hell yeah!

Cricket shook her head and replied, "What date? Pizza, horror movie, and then fucking bedroom."

"Did he bring you fucking flowers at least?" H inquired.

Cricket looked at H as if H were a man. "Really? Do either of you even fucking know me? What the hell do I need flowers for? No, he brought me a new knife which was kind of cool."

"He brought you a knife. Did he bring the fucking pizza too?" T wanted to know.

"Shit yeah! Told him no fucking nooky if I have to pay for it."

"He brought the fucking pizza, gave you a fucking knife, and you had your fucking way with him later. So what's the fucking problem?" H was still not seeing the issue.

Cricket began pacing her room again. "What's the problem?! What's the fucking problem?!"

"I'm sure I don't fucking know," T said calmly.

Cricket glared at both of them standing on her dresser again. "I'm fucking pregnant!"

"Really? You just banged him three fucking nights ago," H pointed out.

Cricket shook pregnancy test boxes at them. "Started puking yesterday. Took the test five fucking times today! I'm pregnant! And it's your fault!"

"I'm pretty sure it's fucking Hooky's fault," H began.

"Oh, I get it, H! It's a fucking power thing. Her power got her good and riled up and you know, Hooky did the rest," T smacked her forehead.

"Yeah, I think you're right. It's not like we have fucking wands or magic or anything," H made sure to say.

Cricket calmed down. "Okay, fine. I'm fucking pregnant. I guess it could be worse. Not really, but it could be. This is going to be a long nine months. Max is not gonna like this."

H took a serious look at her and said, "Well, considering how fucking quick it took you to get pregnant and find out, good news is that it likely won't be a nine month pregnancy."

"Fucking eight months?" Cricket hoped.

"I'm thinking more like about nine fucking weeks," H guessed.

Cricket sat down and summed it all up with, "Fucking shit."

"Have you thought about fucking telling Hooky?" T wondered.

Cricket waved that comment off and said, "That asshole? He'd probably give me shitty advice. Like to buy a dress or something fucking stupid like that."

H nodded and replied, "Yeah that does sound like something fucking stupid he would say."

"Have you thought about a fucking name for the baby?" T kept them on topic.

"Fuck no!" Cricket replied instantly. "Maybe," she said a few moments later. "She'll be Melody Jr."

"What if it's a fucking boy?" T said.

"Like that'll fucking happen," Cricket snorted in contempt.

"It's still fucking possible. Name?" H pushed.

"Not fucking Brad!" Cricket and T said together.

"Yeah, that fucking won't do," H agreed.

"This is fucking tough. How about Thomas?" T suggested.

"Fuck no!" Cricket replied.

"Ooooohh! I got it! The perfect fucking name!" H was excited.

"Fucking spill!" T commanded.

H put hands on hips as if in victory and replied, "Jiminy."

"I fucking like it!" T smiled.

"Jiminy?" Cricket was unsure. So unsure she forgot to swear.

"It's fucking traditional," H pointed out.

"Yeah. Original today, but very fucking traditional for you," T followed up.

"I guess Jiminy Jurist wouldn't be so fucking bad," Cricket thought it over.

"Jurist? Fuck that! You are Cricket! He will be a Cricket as well," H ordered.

"Yeah! Jiminy Fucking Cricket!" T was on board like crazy.

Cricket's expression and eyes lit up. "Ooooohh, I fucking like that."

"See? Fucking thought you might like it," H said victoriously.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: ABB Territory, Torrey Pines building, 2** **nd** **floor. 8:11am, Saturday, February 12** **th** **, 2011.**

Bakuda looked at herself in her full-length mirror. Black hair with a white stripe. Sultry demeanor. An eye for the prize. She blew a kiss at her reflection and put her costume on. It was time. Oh yes, it was definitely time.

She sat on her bed as she pulled the new black and white costume on.

"Uuuurrpphhh," she grunted, pulling the costume over her developing paunch. "Gonna have to lay off those donuts," she muttered. She continued to grunt for another 10 minutes before finally getting that zipper zipped… enough.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: ABB Territory, Woo's Imports on Birch St. 09:11am, Saturday, February 12** **th** **, 2011.**

Dennis Cao, known locally as Dennis Cao, had opened for business minutes earlier. As usual, there was no rush of people to get in and see his items. Some of his things were good, others not so good. All of them were made in North America, due entirely to Leviathan. Woo's Imports belonged to the previous owner. Woo Xing had opened it back in the 1950's and it had been not super-successful, but had made the man and his family a comfortable living.

Woo Xing and his family had died in the 1990's when he and his family had been part of the group that sailed a lot of boats and ships to the mouth of the bay and blew themselves and ships to hell. Enter foreclosure. Enter Dennis Cao. And enter there being nothing really to import from other countries. Dennis kept the name and simply said he was importing from other parts of America.

Dennis did okay with his business, but it was good that he was still a bachelor since the money brought in was enough for him and him only. Especially when Lung showed up and began offering protection. And speaking of the demon…

Lung and his two collections goons strode into the shop and headed right for the counter. That was odd, Dennis thought. Usually it was only the two goons that sauntered into the place as if they owned it. Little shits. But what the hell did Lung of all people want? This couldn't be good.

Lung and goons stopped in front of the counter.

"Monthly protection money, sir?" Dennis pulled out a pre-filled white envelope. Protection scam or not, he wasn't stupid enough to skip a payment to someone who could go toe-to-toe with an Endbringer.

"I know a guy who had his nose broken in two places," Lung said. "I told him to stay out of those places."

"Sir?" Dennis said, wondering if it was a subtle way of Lung telling him to stay out of someplace. "What places should I stay out of?"

Lung scowled and said, "A cement mixer collided with a prison van. Motorists are asked to be on the lookout for sixteen hardened criminals."

"Sir? I don't understand." Oh god! Was Lung saying he was going to give Dennis cement overshoes?

Lung tried to smile. It didn't work well. Still, he said, "If most auto accidents happen within five miles of home, why not move ten miles away?"

"Um, because I can't afford rent anywhere?" Dennis replied, hoping he was making sense to the obviously deranged Lung. "Can I just give you this money like normal and call it good, sir?"

Lung stopped a scowl from forming with force of will. He said in a calm voice, "I have a driving tip for you. Never, ever hit the lead car in a funeral. I have never seen that many people in that bad a mood as when that happened to me."

Again, Lung tried to smile. It almost worked.

"Are you saying I'm going to die?" Dennis was near the point of passing out in sheer terror.

"Fine, I'll take your money now but you better laugh next time."

Money in hand, he and two ABB goons turned from counter and immediately stopped as Bakuda entered in new costume. Lung did not recognize her.

"Lung! There you are!" she cried with a smile on her face. She rushed up to him and grabbed him in an embrace that couples all over the world routinely engaged in. She looked up into his impressively wide eyes and said, "Permit me to introduce myself: I am your new lover."

"What?" Lung replied succinctly.

"You stop resisting me, bebe, and I'll stop resisting you," Bakuda gave a saucy wink. Or what she thought was a saucy wink.

"Is there something wrong with your eyes?" Lung replied, pulling her hands off him.

Michael Chu and Eddie Chu each got a whiff of the woman in the crazy outfit hitting on their boss, Lung. Almost instantly Michael was running for the door, and a half second behind him was Eddie also looking for the exit. Neither noticed they left the envelope of money on the floor.

"Who are you?" Lung nearly roared.

"I am Bakuda, honey. But you may call me Streetcar, because of my desire for you."

Lung, regrettably, got a whiff of this new Bakuda. He quickly broke the embrace and ran for the front door. Anything to get away!

"Is it possible to be too attractive?" Bakuda wondered to herself out loud.

She calmly walked out of the store as the manager rushed for the air fresheners on aisle 2, not hearing the soft ba-dink, ba-dink sound outside.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: The Rig, Director Piggot's office. 11:11am, Saturday, February 12** **th** **, 2011.**

As Miss Militia sat in Director Piggot's office she could tell one very important thing: the Director hated to be kept waiting.

"He's late," she snarled for the 22nd time in the last seven minutes.

"Yes, ma'am," Miss Militia answered, also for the 22nd time. "He must be on his way. I'll go find him," she volunteered. Again.

"Very well," she relented, going back to her monitor to do director-y stuff.

It was only 30 seconds later that Miss Militia found Armsmaster in the hallway, around the corner from Director Piggot's office. He was obviously talking to someone on a phone.

"…so what else are you wearing?"

Miss Militia wasn't sure she heard that right.

"Ooohhh, sounds like someone's been a naughty girl," Armsmaster smiled a bit, oblivious to anyone else.

Miss Militia was sure she heard that. But… Colin?

"Uh-huh. No, I can't say. I'm telling you, I can't say because…" he smiled at her response. "Yes, I have been a bad boy," he smirked. Then looked up. And saw Miss Militia looking at him with wide, unbelieving eyes.

"I gotta go, bye." He hung up. He stored his personal cell phone away and looked at his comrade in arms. "Miss Militia? We have a meeting in Director Piggot's office."

"Um… yeah. I was just looking for you."

"Understood. I was putting together the footage of Lung's most recent battle."

The two entered the Director's office, locked the door and activated security protocols.

"My apologies for being late, Director," Colin said. "I was unavoidably detained. However, I have video footage and an analysis of Lung's latest fight. The footage was gathered from multiple security cameras as well as from the tinker-drones we placed around Miss Hebert."

Colin uploaded his footage and analysis metrics onto the Director's large screen for all to see.

Colin began the video of Miss Hebert going for an evening run. "At 10:44pm, Miss Hebert went for a late night run. For the record, that jogging attire and pattern does not exist in the world. The tinker-drones kept pace with her. Approximately two miles from her house, she went down an alley and emerged looking like this."

The image showed Taylor in her jogging outfit go into an alley and out the other end dressed in her cape outfit.

"Note the time of entrance and exit," Colin said. "Only 15 seconds passed, and at a slow jog, that takes about 15 seconds. Meaning she had no time to stop and change, and that outfit changed as she moved. That is likely another aspect of her power."

"Agreed," Director Piggot said. "Continue."

"At 11:11pm, Eastern, Friday, February 11, 2011, Taylor Hebert approached the intersection of 4th and Charles. She was in costume as shown here," Armsmaster said.

The image showed Taylor Hebert in a black costume with a yellow smiley face mask walking around a corner into the middle of the street towards Lung and his people which had assembled in the intersection.

"Where is the audio?" Director Piggot directed her question at Armsmaster.

"Inoperative on the drone," he replied. "It was operating prior to departure, and worked again once it had returned. We presume that Miss Hebert is inhibiting it in some way."

"Very well," Director Piggot said indicating it wasn't well at all. "Continue."

"…and once you find those flowers, pluck them all!" a metallic-sounding voice came from the speaker as the image of Lung shouted at his troops.

"Pause," Director Piggot ordered. "What was that audio?" She looked at Colin.

Armsmaster replied immediately, "Even though the actual audio was disabled, I ran a lip-reading program against the video to get the best possible dialog."

"Does Lung run a flower shop?" the Director inquired.

"To the best of my knowledge, ma'am: no," Armsmaster replied.

"Are there more comments in here about plucking flowers in some capacity?"

"Yes ma'am, several," he responded. "Along with references to snot grass, and puppy rubs."

"Miss Militia?" Director Piggot queried without saying anything.

"I do not believe this encounter between two capes was due to picking flowers, ma'am," Miss Militia replied with a straight face.

"Neither do I," the Director agreed. "Therefore, cease all audio for this viewing, Colin."

"Understood," he replied, killing the audio channel.

"Good. Resume," she ordered.

The silent video resumed and the three watched as Miss Hebert walked up to the armed individuals, stopped 20 feet away, apparently said something, they replied, there was an argument, and what appeared to be Lung ordering his people to shoot her. They raised their weapons and began shooting.

"We recovered 1,256 shells and spent rounds, ma'am," Miss Militia added as they watched the ABB shoot for over 20 seconds.

Director Piggot nodded and watched as Miss Hebert did not move as a wall of bullet stopped in front of her. The smoke cleared, Miss Hebert moved around the wall of bullets and they all fell to the ground.

"Pause," Director Piggot ordered. She looked at the other two people in her office and said, "She blocked over a thousand rounds? Telekinesis? Magnekinesis?"

"Unknown, ma'am," Miss Militia replied. "Ballistics indicated none of the rounds were altered in a magnetic way, but looked instead as if they smashed into something more solid. We think it may be similar to what Krieg does."

"There was also no blood on any of the bullets, or on the scene," Colin added.

"Understood. Continue."

The three watched as Miss Hebert spoke to ABB members for a few more minutes before many of them left. Colin paused the video as the intersection began clearing of gang-affiliated members.

"We suspect Miss Hebert mastered 39 of the 42 shown ABB gang members. Lung also was unaffected. It is unsure why the three gang members were not affected, or why Lung was not affected. It may be that Miss Hebert has a maximum limit of how many people she can master at a time," Colin stated.

"Have you shown this or discussed it with any Thinkers yet?" Director Piggot inquired.

"No, ma'am," Miss Militia stated. "We wanted to keep this strictly need-to-know until we heard otherwise from you as Miss Hebert is showing herself to be extremely powerful."

"Good. Keep this information contained for now. But pull in a couple of those gang members for questioning. See if they remember anything or how they currently feel. I want to know what Miss Hebert did to get them to leave that street."

Miss Militia wrote notes in her journal and replied, "Yes, ma'am."

"Continue," Director Piggot said.

Miss Hebert on the screen apparently talked with Lung before the three remaining thugs lunged forward and grabbed her arms. They dragged her towards an obviously ramping up Lung. Lung ordered his people to do something which seemed to confuse them. Lung seemed to order them away.

"We suspect," Miss Militia said without pausing the video, "that Miss Hebert was able to master the final three gang members which is why they looked around confused when Lung ordered them to do something, likely given orders to kill her."

"A body language algorithm I created indicated that while the three gang members showed a combination of fear and dedication, and Lung expressed rage, Miss Hebert body language indicated she was perfectly calm."

"Impressive," the Director stated as she watched Lung continue to ramp up while Miss Hebert remained calm.

They noticed Lung ramp up, beginning his transition into a dragon form and then charge at the stationary Miss Hebert. The director's mouth dropped open as she noticed a column of street asphalt raise Miss Hebert up to the height of Lung. The two were only half a dozen feet apart when Lung went to swipe the asphalt column and missed, instead hitting himself.

"Pause," said Director Piggot. "What was that?"

"The recording indicated no wind control, so Miss Militia and I believe Miss Hebert is displaying a form of physiology control."

"Jesus," the Director said. "Continue."

A silent Lung appeared to roar and lunge at Miss Hebert again. The asphalt pillar moved downwards and Miss Hebert ran and avoided Lung's hand that hit a car, causing it to smash into the side of a building. Lung continued to grow and spat a line of fire towards the young cape. The flames stopped before hitting her.

"Pyrokinesis too?"

"Yes, ma'am," answered Miss Militia.

They continued to watch as Lung, about 15 feet in height finally caught the female cape with both hands wrapped around her.

"Notice his arm muscles," Armsmaster indicated Lung. "The muscles are straining, but nothing is happening to Miss Hebert."

"Add indestructible to her list of powers," said Director Piggot.

"Already done, Director," Armsmaster returned.

The video continued at a faster pace as the two capes were pushed about 60 feet into the air by a large pillar of asphalt when then disappeared and left the two to plummet back down. The screen split in half to watch Lung fall back to the ground, landing hard on a car. Miss Hebert stopped falling and then gently descended.

"We've already added flight to her profile, Director," advised Miss Militia.

The video showed the two capes begin talking, with Lung powering down. Minutes later they went their separate ways, the drone following Miss Hebert. The young cape looked around the street, shook her head, and went on her way. Colin stopped the footage.

"Based on the time stamp of the footage to when I appeared on scene, no more than eight minutes passed. Here is what I saw in this location." The video started and showed a normal street with no damage whatsoever.

"No damages to streets, buildings, vehicles, streetlights. Nothing looked amiss. I thought it had been called out for a false call, but I immediately found all the bullets and spent shells. I also found weapons on the street that had been recently fired. There were no bodies, and no blood."

Miss Militia continued, "We collected everything we saw in the video once Colin and I reviewed it. We also took asphalt samples and found nothing unusual with it. Chemical consistency is the same as the rest of the streets."

"We anticipate that any mastering done by Miss Hebert is time-dependent as the PRT agents reverted to themselves within 24-hours of attending Winslow. Shadow Stalker may have had the mastering re-applied each day considering she did something new each day as well."

"Ma'am," Miss Militia started. "We should consider that with the vast multitude of powers Miss Hebert is showing, that she may be a Trump similar to Eidolon."

The three sat quietly as the Director considered her next move. "I want more reconnaissance," she finally stated. "Covert. No one is to know what you two are doing. This is top priority. I want to know more about this Taylor Hebert. Find out her life's story. I don't like mysteries here and she is the biggest one in the city."

"Yes, ma'am," answered Miss Militia.

"Dismissed."

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: ABB Territory, 3** **rd** **Avenue, and moving. 4:11pm, Saturday, February 12** **th** **, 2011.**

Bobby Wong, younger brother of Kenny Wong, surveyed his empire. Well, not really an empire. And not really his, but he was in charge. He was in charge of the Ruby Casino. And he was watching his underlings… his minions, and not his employees no matter what that damn union said, clean the tables and floors, getting it ready for another evening of money, money, money.

Bobby knew the Vegas casinos were open all the time, but here in Brockton Bay, the only way to get people to freely give up their money was at night. It was during that time with partial light that the gamblers didn't notice the additions to the one-armed bandits, or how the ball spinning on the roulette wheel would be about to come to rest on a number to give a big payout and all of a sudden get a little extra life and go to another spot for the house to collect all bets.

Bobby knew the games. He knew the people, and one day, he would be in the inner circle of Lung and they would rule this town. Oh, yes indeed. Rule it and open a casino in all the districts run by his personally-trained people.

His wandering thoughts came crashing down as the front doors came crashing open. His boss, the main man of the ABB flew into the casino at a full run. He skirted the machines, the tables, and the coffee cart and instead ran up the stairs to the third level. Bobby was fast behind him as Lung did not ever want to be kept waiting and was likely there to see how the business was doing.

Bobby was almost 30 seconds behind Lung when he got to the top floor office (he needed to lay off those damn cannoli's). He saw his boss opening desk drawers while looking for something.

"Boss? What's the rush? What are you looking for?"

"You didn't see me, got it?! Now gimme some cash! I need to get to the airport!"

Bobby pulled a wad of cash out of a hidden drawer and gave it to his boss. "Here you are, boss. Last night's take. Only 6 grand. You need me to pay off the cops chasing you?"

Lung looked at Bobby, his eyes wide and a band of sweat on his forehead. "Cops? Those assholes? Screw that. It's Bakuda. She's after me!"

"She wants to blow you up?" Bobby was confused.

Lung shook his head and replied, "Worse. She wants a date!"

Ba-dink, ba-dink! Ba-dink, ba-dink, ba-dink! The sound… that dreaded sound he'd heard for hours was coming closer.

Lung's stomach went cold. She was coming. He turned to his minion and stated, "I wasn't here, got it?!"

Lung jumped out a window and landed on a car three stories below, crushing the roof. He rolled off the car onto the ground, got up and ran off. The manager saw his employer run as if the Hounds of Hell were on his scent. Then he saw a woman in a black costume. She was… skipping. Maybe… prancing. And each time she touched the ground, she made a ba-dink sound as if were a musical chime. It was very confusing.

The woman stopped and looked up at him. "Hey! Asshole!" she yelled.

He had met Bakuda only once, but there was no mistaking that voice. "What?!" he yelled back.

She flexed her shoulders and yelled back, "You want me to fucking blow you up? If not, tell me which way Lung went!"

Bobby was about to provide her the misinformation as requested by the mighty Lung when he caught a whiff of the smell emanating from the premier bomb tinkerer of the world. His eyes bulged and his knees went weak. He immediately pointed towards the departing Lung, who was still visible from his vantage point.

"Thanks, asshole!" she yelled, and then began to prance after Lung.

Ba-dink, ba-dink, ba-dink!

"C'mon, Lung! It's just a date! And sex. Lots of sex! I need a man like you!"

There came no response other than Lung running faster.

"You know, most women would get discouraged by now; but fortunately for you, I am not most women!"

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Apartment of Ms. Megan Hess. 7:11am, Sunday, February 13** **th** **, 2011.**

At 7:11am, Sophia Hess woke, rubbed her eyes, groaned as she saw the time on the clock and hit the alarm to turn it off. She quickly threw the covers off, jumped up and did a few exercises to get the kinks out of her joints and air circulating in her lungs and therefore out to her body. She was soon ready to face another day.

She didn't bother showering and instead got into her costume, mask and gloves still off as she headed for the kitchen. She smelled bacon cooking. That was always something she liked. Not that sissy prey food like lettuce, carrots, and flavored yogurts. Her mom was up, making the bacon and she was sure she would get some.

As she rounded the corner into the kitchen she saw her mother at the stove making breakfast. Eggs too. Good. Ms. Megan Hess was an attractive woman in her late 30's who at the moment was wearing her pink fluffy robe in her white fluffy slippers cooking breakfast while simultaneously waiting for the electric kettle to heat up so she could have her morning coffee.

"Hi mom," Sophia greeted, not bothering to look at her mother, and instead headed to the refrigerator to find some orange juice. Door open, she continued, "I'm gonna be out late today. I have to work with the Wards on something stupid, I'm sure. Then monitor duty."

Juice bottle in hand, she closed the refrigerator door and looked at her mother. Megan Hess looked at her daughter with wide eyes. Sophia looked back. Then the two of them slowly turned to the small Formica-covered kitchen table. At the table sat a man with blonde hair who had put the paper he had been reading down. He wore a white t-shirt and (unfortunately) tighty-whities that were neither tight, nor white any longer.

"Sophia, I'd like to you meet Max. Max, my daughter, Sophia," Megan said.

Sophia was not happy with this bit of news. No indeed. "Shit! That's why you had your TV up so loud last night?"

Her mother put her hands to her face and replied, "Um, the TV wasn't on."

Oh. My. God! "Shit! I didn't need to know that."

"A pleasure to meet you, Shadow Stalker," Max extended a hand to the youthful cape.

Sophia gave the man her full attention. "How the fuck do you know who I am?!" she demanded.

"The costume gave it away," Max replied easily, motioning to the costume she wore.

She looked down at her costume. "Goddammit!" she replied.

"Not a problem, honey," her mother attempted to sooth. "We just get Max an NDA and we should be good."

Sophia wasn't buying it. "Like that'll work. I'm sure Max will sell my identity to the National Enquirer before the day is over."

"I sincerely doubt that," said Megan. "Max doesn't need the money."

Max sniffed in an air of superiority and added, "I should say not, especially since they don't pay more than two thousand dollars for an identity piece. I spend more than that every day."

"So you got a few coins to rub together, eh? Who are you really?" Sophia Hess snarled at the old geezer.

"I'm Max Anders and I own Medhall," Max smiled at the young Ward.

Sophia spun around towards her mother. "What? Mom?! The boss of the company you work for?! Jesus!"

Her mother put a comforting hand on her daughter's shoulder and softly said, "Don't be like that, honey. I've had needs since your father left. And Max was able to fill…"

"Don't fucking say it! I don't want to hear it!" Sophia recoiled at the thought of hearing anything like that! Well, at least from her mother of all people.

"You know," Max started with a little more familiarity than he should have. "That is a bit disrespectful to your mother, young lady."

Sophia Hess had two words for the old geezer. "Fuck you." Yeah, like you readers didn't see that coming.

Max looked at the older Hess and suggested, "Megan? Maybe I should go."

Sophia couldn't let that go! "Yeah, I think you're going to go. To the goddamn morgue, pal! Sorry, mom, but I gotta protect my identity."

Sophia moved to the knife block next to the toaster and pulled out a carving knife. Putting the knife back down, she pulled on her mask, and then picked the knife back up and strode towards Max.

Megan tried to stop her daughter but was pushed aside by the angry teen.

"Max!" she cried out, only to stop a moment later as Max did something surprising, and not in a good way.

Max armored up in a Kaiser metal suit.

"Jesus, he's Kaiser! You fucker!" Sophia yelled.

Max smiled as the excitement of battle began and replied, "I guess we are about to find out if I can cut you in shadow form or not."

The two stared at one another, each with a knife in their hand, about to lunge at one another over the peeling-Formica covered table that had around it four mismatched chairs.

But then something odd happened.

"Stop this right now! I will not allow a super battle in my kitchen!" ordered Megan Hess, age 38, delivery driver of Medhall.

The two capes looked at Megan with equal comments to the effect of she should stay out of their fight when they saw… The Look.

Sophia saw the endless void of her life. The blackness stretched from infinity and ended at her feet where she expected to see herself, but didn't. She was not there. She had been consumed in the void eons ago by something that she knew was an apex predator, something that she was not even close to being. She was small. Worthless. Weak. Prey.

Max saw the eyes of his lover and saw a scared reflection of his own hopes and dreams. His hopes made form were all too useless for him. He was on the ground, bleeding out, an endbringer already moving on as it left his worthless being behind. No one to miss him. No one to mourn him. He was alone. His attention moved outside the kitchen to the apartment building, to the city, to the state, to the country, to the planet, to the solar system, to the rim of the galaxy, to the…

Both Max and Sophia broke the gaze from the elder Hess and looked at one another. Truce. God yes, a truce forever in that kitchen. For neither wanted to see that vision again.

"You will both sit down right now," she said coldly.

They instantly complied, the chairs scraping against the aging linoleum floor.

"Sophia, take off that mask. Max, get rid of that armor."

They complied.

"I am going to make breakfast for both of you and you will eat it right now with no glares, smart comments, or threats. Am I understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," both repeated, both willing to say anything to avoid… The Look.

Minutes later, eggs cooking, bacon cooking, and coffee finally in her, Megan looked at her daughter and the man she'd been with since yesterday and smiled. The two were hitting it off after all.

In truth, both had learned enough sign language (hardly any really) and enough body language (a lot actually) to get the message across of:

 _ **Max**_ _: Don't piss off your mother. She's scary._

 _ **Sophia**_ _: Tell me something I don't know._

 _ **Max**_ _: That you're a stupid, ungrateful whelp?_

 _ **Sophia**_ _: Fuck you._

 _ **Max**_ _: You kiss your mother with that mouth?_

 _ **Sophia**_ _: I'm going to fucking kill ouou._

 _ **Max**_ _: What the hell does ouou mean?_

 _ **Sophia**_ _: Fuck ouou again._

 _ **Max**_ _: Try swearing with your third and fourth fingers. It helps._

 _ **Sophia**_ _: Fuck ouou on a blashstick._

 _ **Max**_ _: Your swearing stinks, you know that?_

"You two are awful quiet over there," Megan Hess said, her back to them as she concentrated on enjoying the coffee while the eggs and bacon burned. "You okay?"

"Indeed we are, Megan," Max purred, a smirk on his lips.

"Mom, how did you even start dating this douche…"

Megan turned around and gave them… The Look. She wasn't stupid and knew those two being quiet meant they were up to something. The two of them may be bonding, but they were still up to something.

"Max is a great guy, mom!" Sophia hurried to say.

"Thanks, Sophia. You are a great kid!" Max hurried to say.

Megan turned around to the see if the eggs were black enough yet.

"Jesus," Sophia whispered to Max in the way survivors of any trauma bonded.

"Indeed," Max started. He paused as he realized something and just blurted it out to Shadow Stalker in a very soft whisper, "I'm in love."

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Author comments:**

This story arc has a mind of its own and has grown bigger again. I will finish it, even if I end up writing three more chapter, although I am hoping to be done with it in two. Yeah, like that will happen. Best laid plans and all that…

Still, I was very happy to create a new cape with Sophia's mother. Believe it or not, she won't be the only new cape either.

Leaving reviews does get me motivated to write more. Just saying…


	6. Chapter 6: Forget Me Not Wormverse 4

Chapter 6: Forget Me Not Wormverse part 4

 **Author's Note:**

Still looking for that guess on Taylor's cape name. I'll give another hint on it: it has been in every chapter of this story arc.

As always: I will give a special shout-out to anyone who finds any of the Easter eggs hidden in the story. Some are more visible than others.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Warehouse 22, Docks. 9:11pm, Sunday, February 13** **th** **, 2011.**

Lung entered a dark, and empty warehouse. The dockworkers had kept all the warehouses padlocked, even the empty ones, but a lock proved no match for Lung who simply snapped the lock off once he got frustrated enough at his lack of lock-picking skills. He needed time. He needed a plan. How did that damn woman keep finding him?

But he was safe now. She wouldn't think to look for him here. He'd left behind people indicating he was going up the coast towards New York. He had even started out that way, driving the car he had taken instead of monthly protection money. But had doubled back. In truth, he needed to anyway since that damn AMC Pacer had blown an engine. And what he knew about Bakuda was that even if she was the premier bomb tinkerer of the world, she was as dumb as a box of rocks.

So lost in the round of self-congratulations he gave himself that he never saw the person jump on him, and tackle him to the floor. They rolled a few times and he came up the loser as he was pinned to the floor by the impressive skills of the person on top.

"The game of love is never called on account of darkness, my little midnight snack," Bakuda grinned down at him.

"How…" cack! "How…" wheeze! "How…" Tearing! "How…" he tried again, only to sneeze / sniffle / wheeze all at once.

"Ah, my love has a cold? We must make him better so we can enjoy the rest of the night. Hold still. This nose bomb will only hurt for a moment."

"Nose bom…" he started.

Boom!

Surprisingly, the so-called nose-bomb did not blow off Lung's nose. Not at all. Instead, it blew away his ability to smell. It wasn't quite what Bakuda had in mind when she made it, but eh, it worked good enough. Especially since he sat up and didn't wheeze in her presence. Or tear up.

"You are my peanut, I am your brittle," Bakuda began the opening dance of that ritual.

A ritual that lasted the rest of the night and unfortunately caused Ron White, the dockworker sent to investigate a break-in at Warehouse 27 the next morning to report vandals had dumped toxic waste in there and unfortunately that warehouse needed to be destroyed for the good of the city.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Medhall, receiving docks. 09:11am, Monday, February 14** **th** **, 2011.**

Megan Hess was at work for all of fifteen minutes when her boss, Justin Graf called her into his office. She was unsure what was going on but had an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

Justin Graf's desk and chair were on a raised platform only two steps up from the floor. He was a short man, only five-feet-six, and used that extra height with his desk and chair to look down on people as if it gave him a sense of power. He started to use that self-given power on his underling, Megan Hess.

"Megan," he started in his usual oily voice. "I heard from a few of your co-workers," he started slowly as if it would make her squirm more.

"What?" she started.

"You know how it is…" he allowed the end of his statement to drift off and not really say anything.

What? This shit of his again? He'd used similar approaches with other co-workers she'd had over the years. Well, fuck that. She'd had enough and gave him… The Look.

He saw… The Look. A coldness enveloped him from top of head to the tips of his toes. She could end him easily, as his first and second wives had done. Stripped him naked and thrown him out after he'd chugged several six-packs. She could see right through him. He was… he needed to… he didn't know what he had to do or could do to stop… The Look.

"You're getting a raise," he said simply, grasping at anything.

"How much?" Megan inquired, not happy with this excuse for a man.

"Not much," he began. "Only a quarter an hour…"

He saw… The Look.

"Uh, ten bucks an hour raise."

"Better," Megan said. "Retroactive?"

"Fuck yeah!" Anything to get her out of his office so he didn't have to see… The Look.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: The Rig, Director Piggot's office. 09:11am, Tuesday, February 15** **th** **, 2011.**

On a crappy Tuesday morning that was as cold as it was overcast that promised rain if not sleet, ice, snow, or all of the above, Director Piggot sat at her desk on a secure line with her boss, Chief Director Costa-Brown. The item of discussion was none other than the new cape in town. Well, the one they knew about at least.

"No ma'am," Director Piggot answered. "We haven't initiated contact with Miss Hebert yet."

"You've known about her for three days. What is the delay?" her boss shot back.

Emily Piggot knew that as crappy as the day had started, if she didn't contain her boss' expectations, then that crappiness was going to get worse. "Anticipating she is a master, or at least has a master power of some sort, Armsmaster has been working on a way to negate her ability so whoever contacts her does not come under her directives should she not be receptive."

"Understandable," came the almost-instant response. "Has she been active since the Lung incident?"

Whew. That crisis averted. "Yes, ma'am. Sunday evening 8:11pm, Qwick-E-Mart convenience store. Married couple Dawn and Bob Shields pulled into parking lot with flat tire. Subjects got out of vehicle, opened trunk and we suspect based off footage from security cameras at the convenience store that they did not have a spare, or it too was damaged. The two then entered the convenience shop. This is when Miss Hebert in her costume showed up on the scene, walking down the sidewalk towards the store. She went immediately to the car and lifted the rear of the car up to get a better look at the tire."

"Wait," the Chief Director said. "She _lifted_ the back end of a car? How high?"

Piggot did not need to check her notes as she had had the same response as the Chief Director when Armsmaster informed her of this situation. "Approximately three and a half feet off the ground, ma'am. Lifted with one hand. Her left."

"Brute ability as well. Continue," instructed the Chief Director.

Director Piggot replied, "Miss Hebert inspected the tire, video shows that her right hand was placed on it and approximately four seconds later she put the car back down, its tire now fixed and inflated. She repeated the process to the other tires. She then left before the subjects exited the convenience store. Armsmaster had several of our people stop the vehicle before it could leave the parking lot, and retrieve the tires from the affected vehicle, replacing with four new ones. Technicians analyzed the tires and found the tires in brand new, factory-fresh condition."

"Time manipulation?" Chief Director Costa-Brown speculated in a tone that said she was expecting an answer one way or the other.

"That is one theory we are thinking of, ma'am," Emily replied.

"Any others, Emily?"

"Yes, ma'am. We have surveillance of her on Monday, 4:11pm coming across a traffic accident on her way home from school. Three cars, and we suspect two injuries. She disappeared from view in mid-step only to re-appear in mid-step in costume. She arrived on scene in costume and moments later the vehicles were back to their original shapes and the people healed. She then exited the scene before first responders could show up. We had Panacea take a look at those that were healed and she could find nothing that indicated any recent injuries. The people injured did not recall being injured, but they still had bloody and torn clothing."

"Any others?"

"No ma'am," said Director Piggot.

"Well, it's only a matter of time then. Has Armsmaster given you a timeline of when to expect his counter to Miss Hebert's possible master power?"

"Yes, ma'am. He expects it to be done today."

The Chief Director nodded on her end, even though Emily could not see it. "Understood. Once he has a working version have him come to Boston and meet with Canary."

"Apologies, Chief Director, but Armsmaster is to meet with who again?"

"Canary," came the clipped response.

"I thought she was in jail."

"She was, however recent evidence showed that she mastered her boyfriend as part of a trigger event and a psychological profile indicates she is likely not going to repeat. She is now a probationary. She knows that if she screws up, it is the Birdcage for her."

"Understood, ma'am."

"Good. Once in Boston, he is to try it out with her first and if nothing unexpected happens there, then he has a green light to try with Miss Hebert. Meantime, keep her under surveillance. No one is to contact her before this weekend. I will see about getting Legend there on Saturday or Sunday to have him give her the best reasons why to join the Wards. Don't let anyone fuck this up, Emily. I want her in the Wards at all costs."

"Understood, ma'am."

The call ended and Chief Director Costa-Brown looked at the woman sitting on the couch who had remained silent the entire time she was on the call. "Do you want Legend there on Saturday or Sunday?"

"Monday. No sooner than 2:31pm. They are to wait for him to arrive before reaching out to Miss Hebert," Contessa replied.

"Monday? The delay is needed then?"

"Yes," came the simple response. There was no more information conveyed after that.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Medhall, HR office. 10:11am, Tuesday, February 15** **th** **, 2011.**

"Ms. Hess," Jessica Biermann (aka: Fenja) began. She was in her non-costumed attire while sitting next to an HR woman who in turn was sitting at her desk looking as important as she could make herself.

"Yes," Megan did not like the feeling she was getting where this meeting was going.

"I'm afraid that what Mister Graf said to you yesterday was a mistake," she began in a manner similar to the oily bastard.

"What part of it?"

"The ten dollar an hour raise you are to get," Jessica began and abruptly stopped as soon as she saw… The Look.

"Yes?"

"Uh…" The eyes of a killer looked at her and found her wanting. She would never know true happiness as she could see herself laying in a gutter with her throat cut by this woman in front of her. That gaze. That piercing gaze like a spear through the eyes and out the brain.

"Yes?"

"Why, ten dollars is not enough, Ms. Hess. Since you are moving up to management, you need to earn more than that."

"Significantly more?" Megan prompted.

"Damn straight!" was Jessica's response.

"What is to be my new role?" said a calm voice, as if the answer would end Jessica's life.

Susan Bolland, a 22-year HR veteran tried to run interference and said, "Well, we only have a junior buyer…" She stopped when she saw… The Look.

Susan saw herself interviewed by a new HR rep. They went over every aspect of her job career. The missing paperclips. The promotions she took part in while denying qualified individuals, the termination notices she handed out the workers who needed the work as well as the benefits for sick relatives, but they were a drain on the company's resources. She was a drain. She was superfluous, she was no longer needed in this new age.

"I don't know anything about being a buyer," Megan stated calmly.

"That's not the role for you, my dear," Susan said desperately. "What you need to be is head of security. That role is open since the current person holding it just went on a leave of absence as she is pregnant."

"And my salary?"

"Fifty thou a year," Jessica said quickly.

She got… The Look.

"Oh, wait. I was thinking of the wrong job. That one pays a hundred grand a year," was the even quicker follow up.

Susan nodded in agreement. She would make it happen. Damn straight!

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: E88 Territory, Ash Street. 11:11pm, Thursday, February 17** **th** **, 2011.**

Taylor normally avoided the bad areas of town. But since she was now a superhero, she needed to go into the bad parts of town. Random luck, plus a swarm of flies that happened to remember where criminal activities which included criminal capes were what brought her to an older area of town where houses and warehouses co-existed.

It was late Thursday evening when from a few blocks away she saw Empire capes Rune and Krieg talking next to a large white van while some thugs or minions moved weapons from a damaged safe house into waiting crates which they placed in the waiting vehicle.

Taylor made the visible spectrum forget about her until she was about 20 feet from the Empire squad, then had it remember her. She knew from their expressions that it looked like she just appeared next to everyone. And she had.

"Hi!" Taylor waved at everyone. "I'm Snake Grass! Unless I get a better name that is. I mean, I'm still thinking about using Scorpion Weed too."

"Get lost, girly," Krieg grunted. "You don't want to be here." Especially since she wasn't Empire, he knew. But how the hell had she snuck up on them?

"I know! I have school tomorrow," Snake Grass admitted. "But I think you should be giving that advice to Rune, right?"

"What?" replied Krieg. He knew she was up to something. Capes always were.

"Rune," Snake Grass pointed to the other cape next to him. "You know, the under-age cape next to you. Hi, Rune! Say, you remember that this is a school night and you need all the sleep you can get as you are still a growing girl, right?"

Rune looked at her watch and said, "Shit! It's later than I thought! And I have a test tomorrow. You cool to take care of the rest of this? I have to go or I'm gonna get in trouble! Bye!" Rune didn't give Krieg time to answer as she jumped on a large rock and split.

Taylor watched Rune fly off presumably to go home, waving a farewell. She turned and noticed an angry Krieg. And next to him stood five of the six goons with guns ready.

"You're a master, aren't you?!" Krieg accused.

"Nope," Snake Grass replied, her yellow smiley face mask not fooling anyone that she was actually smiling under it.

"Kill her," Krieg instructed.

The five goons, who actually had names that Krieg never bothered to learn since goons / minions / staff / employees / and hoodlums were all the same to him: namely, expendable. He stepped back as the goons switched safeties off and fired a burst from each weapon into the new cape. If this didn't do the trick on her, at least he would have a better understanding of what she could do and let Max know.

The all-black wearing cape with the yellow smiley face mask just stood there, not bothering to move. Krieg didn't even so much as see the girl flinch as the weapons fired 40 rounds each, a total of 199 rounds. It would have been 200 rounds, but one of the goons didn't know how to count when he initially loaded his weapon earlier that night. The smoke dissipated quickly in the cool, open air and Krieg saw something he didn't want to see. He saw the new cape utterly unaffected. He could have understood if the cape were impervious to bullets, but her outfit should have been affected. As is, there was nothing different about her from before the shooting to the after.

"Did you people miss her or what?!" Krieg snarled at his goons.

"Hey, nice save, Krieg," that irritating Snake Grass yelled at him with, he knew, that same smug smile.

He had no idea what she meant by it until one of the goons pointed towards him and said, "Uh, sir, you… might want to look… at that."

Krieg turned his head and noticed two hundred rounds (give or take) were just a few inches from his back. He knew it had to be her doing based off one damn fact: the slugs were in the image of a smiley face!

He turned back towards Snake Grass and pulled a knife from his boot sheath. "I'm going to cut you up, girl," he stated as he approached.

"With what?" she replied. "That knife looks like it's made of butter," she pointed to the 10-inch blade.

Krieg waved it out in front of him and said, "Does this look like but…" His attention went to the blade that fell off the handle and went splat on the ground, as if it were made of butter.

How the hell? He looked at her, "That was my favorite knife."

She put her hands on her hips and replied, "That's what you're worried about at this time? Your buttery knife? Look, you've got bigger things to worry about right now."

"Like what? And that knife saved my life more than once, I'll have you know!"

"Like you should remember that you're likely to be looked at as a perv if you keep hanging around underage girls like Rune. Or even these boys, right? You guys look like you're still school age and Krieg there is what, 50?"

"I'm 37!"

"Wow," Snake Grass responded immediately. "You've had a hard life, haven't you? Must be why you keep hanging out with the teenagers, eh? You do remember that could get you arrested, right?"

Krieg suddenly realized something about himself, and was ashamed. "Goons," he instructed, reaching in his pockets for something. "Move the weapons to garage 52 and go home. If you see Hookwolf tell him I will be in late tomorrow." Krieg tossed them the keys to the large vehicle and walked off, contemplating how he could get to the root of his issues and not feel as if he needed to hang around teenagers again. He wondered what kind of health plan Max had them on which would allow him to get decent therapy.

"Bye, Krieg! Get better soon!" Snake Grass yelled after the departing Empire cape.

Goons #1-6 tried to make sense of what just happened. A few minutes ago they were the muscle moving crate after crate of automatic weapons, with two Empire capes watching their backs while they worked. Now… well, now they were just six Empire backs facing off against an unknown cape who made the other two capes leave without any sort of fight or anything.

Yep, thought Paul Westfield who was the oldest of the goons having turned 18 just three days earlier. They were screwed. He used his phone to snap a quick pic of the new cape while she was distracted so that in the event his body was ever found the Empire would know who to take out in retribution.

"So," Snake Grass started, staring at the three hoodlums in front of her while simultaneously watching the two in the back try to load the last two crates, and the one who sat in the driver's seat, wondering how to start as well as drive the former-UPS monstrosity.

"Um," Paul started since none of the other twerps were going to say anything. "How about we just get going, yeah?"

The cape did not take a menacing step towards them or shoot bullets at them (which Paul had to admit was a good thing in his book). "That sounds like a good idea. Say, did you guys happen to find all those crates of guns on the road or something?"

"Um," Paul replied. "Yeeeesss?" he lied.

"And you're picking them up so they don't pose a threat to the public?"

"Yeeeesss," he continued lying.

"Great! You guys keep it up and remember: since the guns were just found lying on the side of the street, you should turn them into the police for 30 days or to see if anyone claims them. If they aren't claimed in 30 days, then they belong to you guys since you turned them in. In fact, I bet you remember how to smell those stolen guns, right?"

"That has got to be one of the," Paul struggled for the right word. "One of the fucking best ideas I have ever heard! C'mon, guys, get those crates loaded. And Jimmy? Get out of the driver's seat. I'll drive. You don't even have a permit yet, for Christ's sake!"

Minutes later, the six goons loaded up and took off in the white vehicle loaded with weapons.

Taylor felt her night was done when she felt something unusual in her air monitoring system she kept active around her. She looked up at the various building, and remembered she could see extremely well in the dark as well as through anything, and noticed the Undersiders watching her from three buildings away, left side, approximately 40 feet up, in a cloud of darkness that matched the night but wasn't real. They had high-powered binoculars, three monstrous canines, grim attitudes, and odd attire.

Snake Grass (or Scorpion Weed) waved at them as a hello.

 **-oo00oo-**

Nearly fifteen minutes later, two police officers walked alongside Paul Westfield as he showed them the weapons they had "found" on the side of the road earlier that evening. The former-UPS truck painted white and loaded with nine crates of weapons was in the parking lot of the local police station.

"So you guys happened to just find these weapons on the side of the road?" Officer Jones repeated what Paul had told him minutes earlier.

"Yeah! Weird, right?"

The back of the van was opened and the weapon crates visible. The other five hoods stood outside of the van, hands in pockets, not sure what else to do.

"And you wanted to bring them here, right?" Officer Jones again repeated the obvious.

"Yeah!" Paul replied. "I heard that any weapons we found and turned in to the police can be claimed by us in 30 days if they aren't claimed by anyone else."

"This is true," started Officer Rubens. "Unless you want to take the reward for turning in lost weapons in the first place."

"I hadn't heard of a reward. How much is that?"

"It's twenty bucks per pistol, and thirty bucks per larger weapon."

"Sweet! And we get the reward now?"

"Oh, no. You still have to wait for the 30 days, but if no one comes to claim these weapons, you and your friends can make quite a bit of change going for the reward," Officer Rubens supplied.

"And, you know," Officer Jones suggested. "That if you find any more 'lost' weapons, you can turn those in as well for rewards either from us, or from the local parties looking for their missing guns."

"Sweet! We can do that! Right, guys?"

"Hell yeah! Be nice to have some pocket change again!"

"Tell you what, guys," said Officer Jones. "You all bring those crates inside and we'll give you a receipt for them, payable in 30 days. And we will also let the other police stations in town know that you six are looking for lost weapons and turning in any that you find. Once they know you all on sight, this process will go a lot faster."

"Sweet!"

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Coil's base. 2:11am, Friday, February 18** **th** **, 2011.**

Thomas Calvert (aka: the villain Coil, make that: the SUPERVILLAIN Coil) looked at the clock on the wall. He knew it had been hours since Tattletale had encountered the new cape. A cape he desperately wanted. Two timelines ran concurrently. In one, he sat in his office as if expecting a call. In the other, he had his men keeping tabs on Tattletale, and once they reported she and the other cape had gone their separate ways for the night, he had his men grab her and forcibly bring her back to the base where he would interrogate her, again. As usual.

Ring. Ah, she was calling in, he thought.

"Hi, boss," Tattletale said with a smile. "You want the update on the new cape, right?"

"You should know the answer to that already," he replied coldly.

"Oh, I do," Tattletale shrugged the coldness off. "A few hours ago me and the team were on the warehouse roof you told us to be on. We watched weapons being pulled out of another warehouse and were prepared to intercept once they had all the weapons moved to the van. Krieg and Rune were on scene. Grue and Regent could handle those two and Bitch could take the skinheads in the van. But mid-way through the gun movement, a new cape came on scene. She took out the Empire's two capes with a few words and off they went."

"Name?"

"Calls herself Snake Grass or Scorpion Weed. She hasn't made up her mind on a name yet. I get the feeling she may even call herself Grassy Weed to mess with people."

"Master powers?" That was the money question.

"Nope," Tattletale replied. "Not that I could tell. Not sure of all her powers yet."

Wait. What? "All her powers? More than… how many?"

"No idea. We were on the warehouse, at night, in Grue's darkness and she still saw where we were from over a hundred yards away. She waved at us. I waved back. A few minutes later we were on the ground heading towards her. The guns were gone with the skinheads but my power told me the guns weren't going to the bad guys."

"I don't care about the guns," Coil snapped irritably.

"Right, right. Anyway, we meet up with the new cape, I introduce the team, and she told us who she is. I asked about the ABB. She denied doing anything to them. I asked about Lung and she denied doing anything to him. I asked about Winslow. She denied that as well, even though I didn't ask for specifics. She did them all right. I had the rest of the team head back while I took the new cape out for a late night snack as a meet and greet kind of welcome to the world of superpowers."

Lisa easily recalled that meet and greet as it had only been an hour earlier.

" _I'm going to have to stop by somewhere and get some other clothes. Going to a restaurant like this is sure to get me arrested by the PRT," Tattletale said, thinking of where to get some other clothes._

" _Here," Snake Weed Grass Scorpion said and touched the sleeve with her finger. Instantly, Tattletales entire attire changed to mirror Taylor's, with both outfits losing the smiley face mask and instead having simple yellow domino masks cover their eyes._

" _That is so fucking cool!" Tattletale grinned, looking herself over._

" _Thanks," Taylor smiled back._

' _But why the costume? I mean, I already know who you are. And I know you can find out easily who I am," Lisa asked honestly._

" _Oh, that's not the reason why. It's so that whoever is flying the drone that's been following me this week doesn't recognize who you are."_

" _Sounds like a PRT move to me," Lisa looked around for a drone, but didn't see it._

 _The two moved out and Taylor replied, "Oh, it is. I'll have to meet them eventually, but for now, I just get to keep confusing them more and more. It's quite fun actually."_

" _Aren't you concerned they will find out who you really are under that mask?"_

 _Taylor shook her head. "Oh, no. They already know."_

 _Lisa grinned at the sudden influx of clues and said, "And you don't go around unmasked because knowing who you are and proving it are two different things."_

" _Very true. Now, you hungry?"_

" _Absolutely. But you know? My power is telling me that you want the tinker-drone to follow you for more than just confusing the PRT, but I can't put my finger on why exactly. It's something… hmmm, non-standard, but I'm not getting more than that."_

" _Oh, it's not a big reason. It's for convenience. See, I use it as my floating speakers, like for when I want to make an entrance. I have it play Black Betty or whatever song comes to mind," Taylor grinned at the memory of the last time she used it._

" _That is… so fucking cool! I wish I'd thought of that," Lisa grabbed her by the arm and casually dragged her to a nearby restaurant._

" _Thanks," Taylor had replied, not dragging her feet as she went along._

Lisa enjoyed the memory but said, "And that was how we ended up at Denny's. Did you know they're a 24-hour restaurant? Anyway, she somehow knew the manager there. Something about helping him fix a flat on his car. And by fixing, I mean she moved the rubber tread around to the point where all the tires were the same, and none no-longer balding or about to pop like the first one did."

"Skip the people with the car. Get to the new cape," Coil instructed.

"Gotcha. She has some form of shaker power. I usually can tell a lot about a person at first glance but with her, all I'm getting is white noise. Weird, y'know? I don't know her name yet. It's one of those things that just isn't legible to me."

"Identify her other powers displayed that you know of," Coil stated.

"Sure thing. Invisibility, flight, brute strength, enhanced vision, enhanced hearing, enhanced spoofing of Tattletale, and my absolute favorite one of all: molecular rearrangement."

Pause.

"Boss?"

"What… what was that last one?" she heard him ask in a quieter voice.

"Molecular rearrangement," she restated. "Turns out that is how she got to know the manager at Denny's. She fixed the tires of his car by rearranging the rubber molecules around so they were much more sturdy. And that's how she made her costume. Cool, eh?"

"Right. Can she arrange molecules to do anything? To make anything? How complex of an item can she make?" Coil could see uses for that power.

"Not sure, boss. She just came into her power recently; that much I can tell."

"What else can you tell me?"

"She's open to being friends with me. We're going to meet up tomorrow and have a girl's day out at the boardwalk and bitch about people. I got the impression she was going to bitch about bitches being bitchy to her at her school. Oh! And she likes chocolate pie. With whipped cream. Fresh whipped cream. And she can pack it away. That girl has some appetite for pie."

Coil's thoughts raced. "Good. Become her friend. Make her an offer to join the Undersiders. She has a lot of potential."

"You got it, boss."

Coil hung up the phone and shut down the concurrent timeline he had been running, with his alternate-self torturing the same answers out of Tattletale from a room just down the hall from his office with a little help from his mercenaries. She didn't need those fingers anyway and it had been fun to watch her expression as he had alternately fed those fingers to a garbage disposal.

Lisa shut her phone down and got ready for bed. Teeth brushed, jams on, and a not-so-subtle yell to Alec to shut the goddamn TV sound down already, she headed for bed. She was asleep in less than 30 seconds and did not recall the earlier conversation that took place with Snake Weed or Scorpion Grass, or whatever she called herself these days.

Her not recalling what she didn't dare remember was at her request. It turned out that after she and Grassy Weed had finished eating at Denny's, they took a short walk down the boardwalk as Tattletale talked about the Undersiders and her boss, Coil. Tattletale had not been entirely truthful with Coil earlier, but that was only due to the fact that she didn't remember that her ability had zeroed into the fact that this new cape could and would help her get away from Coil.

So the two had talked and walked. Lisa admitted that she worked for Coil and the rest of the Undersiders didn't know who the boss was. Lisa also said that Coil had seemed more agitated these days considering what happened with Lung of all people, and she was pretty sure he had recruited another super-gang called the Travelers.

"They showed up earlier this week," Tattletale confessed. "I don't know much about them other than at least one of them makes everybody around Coil on edge. Kind of like you're-gonna-die-on-edge."

"That's not good," Taylor replied, absently making sure the aging beams on the boardwalk remembered what it was like when they were brand new.

"I know. You meeting the Undersiders tonight? Yeah, that was planned. Coil told us to be on that roof tonight so we could meet. I'm pretty sure he has some sort of pre-cog on his payroll now."

"He wanted us to meet?"

"Yeah," Tattletale grimaced. "I'm not entirely sure why, but I can guess."

And Lisa told the new cape about her power of super-sluething, and how she was getting some seriously bad vibes from Coil. She wasn't sure if the Travelers were there to back the Undersiders up, or if they were to replace the Undersiders. And if they are to replace, then what would happen to the Undersiders? Her understanding and inclination from knowing what she knew of the boss was that no one left Coil's employ alive.

Taylor suspected Lisa was in a bad place no matter what brave façade she was showing. It surprised her when Lisa said she knew Taylor could remove the memories of their conversation. It didn't surprise her to know that the reasoning was to ensure Coil did not find out about it. This lead to another conversation on how Coil always seemed to know things even if Lisa didn't tell him, and she was unsure how he did it.

Taylor knew she would help. This was what being a superhero was all about. They made plans to talk again Saturday morning. She needed time to understand this mystery some more. Taylor ensured Lisa only remembered the good things they talked about that night, and forgot talking about anything Coil-related and they parted.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Author comments:**

As usual, this story arc has a mind of its own and has grown bigger yet again.

There was a guest review in the last chapter. Lots of ideas. This chapter was mostly written before that review came in. However, I loved the ideas and some (not all) will be making it into the next chapter. In fact, that gave me the idea to create more new characters. And a couple more scenes.

And make this story longer again. It's all good though.

Leaving reviews does get me motivated to write more. Just saying…


	7. Chapter 7: Forget Me Not Wormverse 5

Chapter 7: Forget Me Not Wormverse part 5

 **Author's Note:**

This chapter took way longer to get out than I had hoped. I kind of expected that since both Feb and March are very difficult for me with kid / school activities. So writing takes a backseat in those months fo the most part. Still, here is the latest chapter.

Three reviewers: "Guest", sanabalis, and Akasha Drake figured out the significance of Taylor's cape names. Answer: both names are a type of Forget-Me-Not plant. Same as title.

Reviewer "Guest" also left many suggestions, of which the first one being used is in this chapter. It has to do with Sophia. Hope you like it.

As always: I will give a special shout-out to anyone who finds any of the Easter eggs hidden in the story. Some are more visible than others.

Thank you to my beta: World Theory.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Paul Westfield's house. 09:11am, Friday, February 18** **th** **, 2011.**

HONK! Blared the noise of an ex-UPS van that was painted white again.

Yawning as he came down the stairs, Paul Westfield turned into a cliché as he idly scratched his left pit while still pulling on his shirt over his hairy upper body. "Ma!" he said loudly just shy of the point where people would have called it yelling. "I'm heading out with the guys today!"

"Hold it!" came an equally loud voice with the inflection of a 3-packs a day habit. A mature woman with long, graying hair came around the corner from the kitchen to the hallway. She wore fluffy slippers and a fluffy robe over her flannel jams. Her apparel was designed to hold in maximum heat since the houses on the east coast which had been build nearly a century earlier, was notoriously bad in keeping heat from escaping.

"What?" Paul returned to his mother while pulling his winter coat on.

"Where do you think you're going? What are you doing when you get there? No, screw that! You need a job since you're not in school anymore."

"Ma," Paul rolled his eyes. "Me and the guys have a job, ma."

"Working for the Empire as a thug? That's not a job. That's an arrest waiting to happen. _If_ you're lucky."

Paul shook his head and said, "Nah. Me and the guys resigned from the E88 last night. We got a job instead."

Janice Westfield smiled in relief. "That's wonderful news! Where are you working?"

"We work for ourselves!" Paul smiled back proudly.

"Um… doing what?"

"We collect things for the police," her son replied honestly (for once).

Janice bit her lip slightly as she thought how best to reply. "While I'm glad it is something you are doing _for_ the police, _what_ exactly are you collecting?"

"Guns."

"…guns?"

"Yep. Guns. You know, pistols, rifles, bazookas."

"Guns!?"

"Yeah," her son beamed his smile at her. "We get reward money for all the illegal guns we turn in to the cops. We figured it out after we found a lot of guns on the side of the road that the E88 specifically did not leave there."

"Guns?!"

"Yeah. And I know what you're thinking. You're thinking how in the world am I going to find all the illegal guns in the city? Not a problem. For some reason I can smell guns, so finding them won't be hard. You know, it smells a bit gunny in here, so one of our neighbors must have something. I'll have to look into that when I get back tonight. I gotta go. Guys are waiting outside in the van."

"Um, okay," Janice didn't know what else to say. "Tell me all about your first day tonight."

"I may be late if we get on a roll," he said as he opened the front door, waved to the guys in the van, and headed out to some gainful employment.

Janice Westfield watched her son leave the house with an energized spring in his step. Once the front door closed behind him, she looked over to at the cannister of flour on the kitchen counter. She wondered if her son had actually smelled the .38 special that was sealed in a ziplock baggie that she kept hidden in the flour cannister. If he did, then she might have to give it back to Mrs. Rogers who had in turn gotten it from Mrs. Knesselly who in turn had taken it from the passed-out drug addict that had napped on her lawn a few years earlier.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Shamrock Gas on 13th. 10:11am, Friday, February 18** **th** **, 2011.**

Larry pulled the van into the Shamrock station, stopped next to the aging pumps and cut the engine. Jimmy jumped out the side door and began to pump gas into the tank. That was going to take about six minutes which gave Harry Stivic and Kyle Burns enough time to use the restroom. Harry and Kyle made sure their pistols were loaded and easily accessible as they made their way to the men's room. As usual, the station's restrooms were accessed from the outside.

Normally, Harry and Kyle would just pick up rocks to carry inside the restrooms to kill any of the room's residents that weren't customers, let alone human. Rodents and hard-to-kill insects found restrooms the cat's meow, so to speak. Now, Harry and Kyle had better weapons when they went in.

Meanwhile, in the van Ralph Kramden III went over to where Paul was reviewing his notes in a small notebook. Ralph noticed Paul's writing was more like chicken scratches than writing, but Paul was at least keeping notes.

"Hey Paul," Ralph began. "How many guns have we collected so far?"

Paul flipped the notebook back to where the day started and said, "Let's see. We got six handguns at the 3rd Ave Library."

"Heh-heh, yeah. Those librarians weren't happy about that," Ralph chortled.

"Nope," Paul agreed.

" _Jesus Christ! Look at the size of that fucker! Kill it!" Kyle yelled._

 _Blam! Blam-blam!_

" _Got that rat! Stall is clear!" Harry shouted back._

"At the Qwick-E-Mart on 4th Avenue we collected 22 pistols from a bunch of dope-heads."

"I wonder if they planned to pay for those donuts there or just hold the place up?"

"Don't know, don't care," Paul said simply.

"You know, Skidmark ain't gonna be happy about us taking their pistols," Ralph pointed out.

"Still don't care," Paul replied. "At the 5th Ave Exxon station we collected 2 handguns, 1 shotgun, and 2 Uzi's of all things."

"Yeah, that vacationing couple from Vermont had no excuses for any of those weapons."

"I was more concerned that the Uzi's actually worked. They were old, and the safety was broken," Paul said.

"Yep," Ralph agreed.

"At Luck's Pawn on 6th Avenue we confiscated 51 pawned stolen weapons. Breakout was 38 handguns, and the rest rifles."

" _Jesus Christ! There's three of those fuckers over there! Kill 'em!" Harry yelled._

 _Blam! Blam-blam! Blam!_

" _They're running!" Kyle shouted._

" _They're running at me, shithead! Fuck it! I can hold it!"_

Moments later Harry and Kyle ran out of the restroom, which was anything but restful, and jumped into the van. Jimmy finished fueling, paid the attendant at the window, and moments later the van was on the move.

Minutes later they were at the 1st Ave Brockton Bay Police Station. There, the boys dropped off their weapons, collected receipts for the drop-offs, given a few donuts and some coffee for the good job, and well wishes for doing more work.

Harry and Kyle managed to also use the restroom there.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: 2** **nd** **Street and 3** **rd** **Ave. 3:11pm, Friday, February 18** **th** **, 2011.**

Coil split a timeline as he enjoyed doing. He was a master planner, he knew. After all, he had acquired powers when others his age would have simply rolled over and died from boredom. He had planned his way into creating a secret base in Brockton Bay that city planners and budget people didn't even know they helped finance building. He had planned and acquired his pet precog. She was good and hooked to where she gave answers when needed. He utilized those answers ruthlessly against his opponents. But today's answers had been very unusual. It all boiled down to one question: chance of success with today's activities in Aggressive Negotiations? Answer: 0 percent.

That had caused him to pause. It wasn't that that particular negotiation tactic would fail (it had failed in the past he knew). No, what bothered him was that it failed 100 percent. He wanted the new cape in town. She was able to do seemingly anything, and he wanted her. Therefore, with the aggressive negotiations out the window, his next question of giving her the easy-sell package to join up had also resulted in a 0 percent success. Both failing before they started was worrisome. Therefore, Coil needed more information.

In Timeline A, Coil gave a green-light to the Aggressive Negotiations package plan and sent the information to Captain Ben Prius, the man in charge of all his mercenaries. In Timeline B, Coil resumed normal operations and watched as events unfolded in Timeline A.

 **Timeline A:**

"We have visual on target," said a voice over the radio which was heard back at the base by Capt. Prius.

The captain confirmed no countermands were in place and replied, "You have a go."

The order crackled over the radio that Sgt. Robert Branson wore under his civvies.

"Acknowledged," Sgt. Branson replied. A nod to the three other men in the car had them quickly exiting the vehicle and walking on an intercept course towards a young girl who was in turn on her way home from school. They'd had a visual on the young girl since she left school and had followed discretely, sometimes swapping blocks and jumping in front of her in order to validate the visual. It was her.

She had left school without any others walking with her. Others had been on the same course as her, but she eventually was walking on the sidewalk alone, a backpack over her shoulder, her hair back in a ponytail, heading towards her home. They knew the address she was headed towards, but didn't know that her name was Taylor Hebert. It wasn't mission-critical to know that.

Their instructions were clear: take the young woman into custody. Alive. Relatively unhurt. It wasn't as if they hadn't done things like that before, so they were okay with the orders. Pay was still the same. The nod from Sgt. Robert Branson was all that it took to get Claude Smith, Klause Jones, and Johann Green to prepare their mindset for what they were about to do.

They were parked a block up from the target. In a half minute they were close enough to see that their target wasn't showing any indication of elevated alertness, situational awareness, or anything that was abnormal from a teenage girl. The four men wearing their non-military outfits were only 20 feet away when a former-UPS van, now painted white screeched to a halt next to them and a bevy of formerly illegal guns were immediately pointed in their faces.

A man stepped out of the passenger side sliding door and walked around the front of the vehicle, his gun at the ready. "Okay, guys, let's see your license and registration for those guns you're carrying," he ordered.

"What guns? We are just out for a stroll on a nice January afternoon," the tallest gentleman with the scar across an eyebrow that went sideways over his nose and to the mid-point of the cheek said in a heavy German accent.

Paul rolled his eyes and said, "Guys? Don't do this. I get that you don't have your license or registration. Fine. Just hand over all your guns to my guys or, you know, they'll open fire on you and we'll just take them off your corpses."

"But like Claude said, we don't have guns, yes?" the second biggest camper said behind his brown beard, heavy muscles, and scowling mouth.

"Liar!" Paul yelled, and aimed his gun at the nearest person who he didn't know was Sgt. Branson. "I can smell them on you! You have one in that left pocket of your jacket; he has one in the lower of his back. Now hand 'em over, goddammit!"

The two youngest of Paul's group, Kyle Burns and Harry Stivic had leapt at the chance to make a difference with the Empire, but these days were very interested in making some cash. Kyle and Harry had taken flanking positions on the four guys with the hidden guns on their bodies. It wasn't the first time they had done it today, and likely wouldn't be the last. If Paul said they had it, then they had it.

The four mercenaries themselves looked at one another and thought about complying up to a point. Said point would be to pull the weapons out, act as if they were giving them over, and then pulling a fast one and shooting all these kids. However, Sgt. Branson noticed one of the kids right away. The family resemblance was there all right. Years earlier he'd had the unfortunate experience of working for a Major Frank Burns who was one of the most psychotic officers in the military. The man was nuts enough that in a fight, he could take a fatal round and still keep on killing those bastards stupid enough to still be trying to kill him. Bad thing was: fatal shots to the Major never turned out to be fatal enough. The man kept living and if this kid was either the Major's son (unlikely) or grandson (very likely), then the last thing he wanted was to do anything to this kid.

"Hand over the guns, guys," Sgt. Branson ordered his team. He was in charge and while not happy about it, they followed orders and handed over four pistols.

Paul nodded at their compliance and said, "Thank you for that. Now hand over the three others."

"How did you…" Sgt. Branson started.

"I told you, I can smell them on you. C'mon, c'mon, hand them over. I'm on a schedule."

Klause, Johann, and Robert handed over the remaining guns. The kids with all the guns pointed at them had not stopped the pointing of guns at them.

"I guess you want the knives as well?" Sgt. Branson nearly snarled.

Paul began backing up, as did the others, their guns still on the four men. "Nah. Don't get a reward for any of those. Now if these guns are legal, bring your license and registration to the police station on Ash and collect them. Otherwise, don't. C'mon, guys. We're out of here. I'm smelling something a couple blocks away."

"Whoo-hoo!" the others in the van whooped as they slammed the doors and the van took off in a rush.

Sgt. Robert Branson watched the van screech away and looked at his men. "What just happened?"

Taylor Hebert had watched the altercation between kids with guns and grown-ups with guns-not-drawn and felt obligated to point out the obvious for the poor guys who looked odd in the clothes they were wearing. "You guys just got mugged," she said simply.

Sgt. Robert Branson stood tall and imposing, especially over this waif of a girl, and said, "Miss? We're still armed and want you to come with us. Quietly and undamaged, or quietly and damaged: your choice."

"Come where? You didn't say the location. Did you forget or something?" Taylor inquired.

"Of course we didn't forget the, uh… dammit!" Sgt. Branson said irritably.

"You know, if you're going to swear, you could at least do it in German, or did you all forget that you only understand German."

"Sie, wer auch immer Sie sind, ruft die Basis an und fragt nach Bestellungen. Eile!" ordered Sgt. Branson to the other men.

(translated from German): "You, whoever you are, call the base and ask for orders. Hurry!"

"Wer bist du noch mal? Und wo bin ich?" Klause Jones asked of the barking-orders man.

(translated from German): "Who are you again? And where am I?"

"Hast du mich von Basic entführt? Ist das ein Raz? Oder willst du mich beschönigen?" Johann Green said as he pointed a finger from one man to the other.

(translated from German): "Did you guys abduct me from basic? Is this a raz? Or are you going to roofie me, because let me tell you, I'm not into that."

"Hat jemand die Zeit? Ich weiß, dass ich einen Termin habe, aber ich kann mich an nichts erinnern," Claude Smith said.

(translated from German): "Anyone got the time? I know I have an appointment, but I can't remember, um, anything about it."

"Adios!" Taylor waved at the confused men as she continued towards home.

"Was hat sie gerade gesagt?" Robert wanted to know.

(translated from German) "What did she just say?"

Coil sat and watched this other timeline from his alternate-self's desk with the video feed coming from their body cams, and the audio coming from the microphones and the ear pieces they all work. What this new cape had done to her men, he wouldn't forget, nor would she remember once he dropped that timeline.

 **Timeline B**

However, seconds before he was to drop that timeline, a buzzer sounded on the main access doors to his northern hidden base. He activated the cameras and microphones. He zoomed into the person at the "front door." No. It couldn't be. How had the little bastard tracked him down here of all places?!

"Hello?!" yelled the obviously 12-year-old child with a canvas bag over his shoulder. "Collecting for January's papers! Hello? Mr. Calvert?! I know you're in there. I expect a tip this time!"

Coil dropped Timeline B. He could live with four less mercenaries. He was not going to be caught by that little shit of a paperboy again if he could help it.

But now that he thought about it, shit! That paperboy knew where he was. He needed to rotate everyone to his western secret base.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: The Rig, Director Piggot's office. 5:11pm, Friday, February 18** **th** **, 2011.**

"Enter!" barked Director Emily Piggot to the knock on her door. She looked up from the budget report justifications and immediately noticed Miss Militia enter the office holding a couple pieces of paper.

"Director," Miss Militia began without pause. "I think we have a problem."

"How bad?" Emily replied. After all, the nature of her job was dealing with problems, so this wasn't anything new.

"Quite serious." Miss Militia then handed over the two sheets in her hand.

The Director accepted the papers and read them. She then read them a second time, slower, to make sure she hadn't misread them the first time. She hadn't. "Is this for real?" she asked of Miss Militia.

The scarf-wearing cape shook her head and replied, "I sincerely doubt it ma'am."

"I have to agree with you on that. Who else did you show this to?"

"Dr. Franklin."

"His thoughts about it?"

"He agreed with my summation which is at the bottom of page 2," Hannah replied professionally.

"Very well. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. Fill her slot with another in the rotation. I'll handle it now."

"Yes, ma'am," came the succinct answer.

A few minutes later Director Piggot had Chief Director Costa-Brown on the phone.

"What is it, Emily?" the Chief Director started in her usual no-nonsense manner.

"Ma'am," Emily Piggot began. "We've determined that Shadow Stalker hasn't been mastered over the past few days. We believe she is just acting out at school for the attention. Which throws doubt onto her being mastered before then. Due to a further, and deeper investigation, we found out that she was involved with that locker incident at Winslow back in early January."

"None of that is enough of a reason for you to contact me, Emily. This is in your area to address."

"Yes, ma'am," Emily agreed. "However, of more immediate concern is the most recent NDA Hess turned in. She has identified Kaiser as a person in-the-know of her secret identity with Kaiser as the one who signed it. Hess also sent in a note to be relieved from patrol and monitor duty for the weekend in order to catch up on her homework, also signed by Kaiser. As best Miss Militia, Dr. Franklin in psychiatry, and I can tell without actually interviewing her yet, we believe she's doing it as a subconscious cry for help. I would normally say it might even be from feelings of guilt, but I have met the cape and do not believe she feels guilty for anything she has done."

"Hmm, yes," Chief Director Costa-Brown acknowledged a few seconds later. "I can see how this escalated to my purview. A cape with psychological problems is something we have to handle with kid gloves, no pun intended. One second, Emily," she said.

Emily heard her over the phone typing quickly on a keyboard. She waited patiently, knowing better than to interrupt a superior who is working a problem through.

Within a minute, the Chief Director said, "I am sending the Squee Triplets to you, Emily. Their last assignment completed successfully so I have high hopes they will be successful with Miss Hess. Orders have been sent. They will arrive tomorrow in Brockton Bay. You are to have them work exclusively with Shadow Stalker and get this subconscious cry for help addressed."

"Yes, Chief Director," Emily replied, happy to have come away from a conversation with the Chief Director that didn't imply her death or firing, or anything else awful. Of course, that was foregoing the knowledge that the Squees would be in her office within 24 hours.

Still, those triplets had done wonders with other slacker capes in the past she knew.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: The Rig, Director Piggot's office. 8:11am, Saturday, February 19** **th** **, 2011.**

The next morning Director Emily Piggot was in her office reviewing the overnight reports when her assistant popped in and let her know that the Squee Triplets were on their way up. Emily thanked the man and put away anything of importance on her desk, namely everything on her desk other than a monthly calendar and a pen, and even she wasn't sure about the pen. Soon enough, she heard the Squee trio approaching outside her doors and was soon face to face with them.

The first thing Emily noticed as the three young girls entered was that they were YOUNG. They couldn't have been older than 13 years of age. And that was stretching things. But as anything Emily had learned over the years when it came to powers, it was that she couldn't take anything for granted. Age, gender, nothing.

"Hello girls," Emily began with as much cheer as she could muster, which considering she worked in Brockton Bay, was saying something.

"Hi!" cheerily replied the lithe young blonde with a ponytail in a pink t-shirt, purple pants, and black shoes. She also had a smudge of something chocolate next to her lips.

"Hello!" grinned the lithe young blonde with a double ponytail in a green t-shirt, pink pants, and white shoes. She did not have a smudge of something chocolate next to her lips, but did have something yellow-ish that smelled suspiciously of lemon.

"Hiya!" cheekily greeted the last lithe young blonde with a triple ponytail in a purple t-shirt, green pans, and red shoes. She had something red smudged next to her lips.

Emily closed the door to her office once the girls were in and escorted them to her sitting area. "So who is who?" she asked of the trio.

"WHOOOO!" green t-shirt imitated an owl.

"WHOOO-WHOOO!" purple t-shirt imitated the imitation.

"WHOOO-WHOOO-WHOOO!" pink t-shirt imitated the imitationed imitation.

All three began laughing at the joke that Emily didn't get. And truthfully, no one else would get either.

Director Piggot's smile strained the muscle in her mouth as she kept her voice calm and said, "Right. Which of you is Jessica?"

"Me!" yelled the green t-shirt girl, her hand in the air.

"Pleasure to meet you, Jessica," Emily returned with the politeness still active. She knew she would pay for that later. She would need some extra time in the swear room. She looked at the remaining two girls and said, "And which of you is Kylie?"

"Me, me!" raised the hand of the pink t-shirt wearing girl.

"And that means you must be Linda," Emily looked at the purple t-shirt girl who nodded at a brisk 30MPH.

"Did anyone explain why you three are here?" Emily began.

"Oh no," Linda replied.

"No one ever tells us about these things," Kylie also replied.

"But it's always the same, which is really, really, REALLY awesome!" Jessica finished for them.

The three girls, who had initially sat on the couch for introductions, were now up and bouncing off the walls. Literally. They were like giant inflatable beach balls that bounced, boinged, and went splat against walls, ceiling, and floor.

"Girls?" Emily maintained her polite expression as she knew what would happen if she didn't. These capes were well known by all members of the PRT. Very well known.

"Yes, Director?" Linda began.

"Do you want something?" Kylie added.

"Would you like to bounce in a bouncy castle?" Jessica morphed into a girl-sized bouncy castle.

"I do! I do!" Kylie yelled and morphed back into herself before jumping into the bouncy castle.

"Me, me!" Linda cried before she too was in the bouncy castle.

All three girls were giggling as two of them jumped up and down in the cape-created bouncy castle.

Director Piggot smiled a strained smile at their antics and went back to her desk, opened a drawer and pulled out the last assessment of the Squee triplets done by Director Sandoval of the Texas PRT. It was short, but accurate. He wrote:

 _They are all bouncy, flighty, and have the attention span of a hyperactive dog who is redlining on puppy uppers. They all like their Barbie dolls, putting on make-up, giggling, and talking about boys while putting on make-up. Oh, and gummies. They love gummies. Do NOT give them any. You will regret it. They get enough sugar elsewhere._

"I'm hungry," announced Jessica who returned to human form.

"Me too," Linda agreed.

"Do you have any gummies?" Kylie asked Director Piggot.

Emily's danger sense went off in high alert as she smiled gently and replied, "I do not have at this moment, no. But I will make sure to get you some before you leave today, okay?"

The identical triplets smiled happily let out an ear-busting, "SQUEEE!"

Emily knew she needed to get them out of the Rig and quick. "I know. Let's play a game. I'm going to bring someone into this office I want you to help. Why don't you three hide behind that couch and when she comes in, I'll talk to her for a few moments and then introduce you three. Sound good?"

"We get to jump out and scare her?" Linda's eyes went wide.

"Yes," Emily replied with a slight nod.

"SQUEEEEEEEE!" all three squeeeed with maniacal grins of amusement on their faces.

They went about hiding in plain sight. Like, really hiding in plain sight. One of them took the appearance of her desk. The other an appearance of a chair. And the third an appearance of a clock. It wasn't as if she suddenly had duplicates of each in her office. Instead, they became those items even as they sat on the couch playing with their Barbie's. Emily was amazed again at the power of bullshit.

She made a call. "Miss Militia? It's time. Send Hess to my office."

Less than two minutes later, Hess entered her office, Emily's assistant closing the door behind her. Hess was dressed as Shadow Stalker and her mask was on. Still, Piggot could make out creases in the facial mask to know that Hess was not happy about being called into the Rig on a Saturday morning.

"You're being taken off active duty as there is a possibility, small as it is, that you have been compromised."

"What?! I'm not compromised!" Hess began argumentatively.

Emily shook her head negatively and said, "Then what would you call having Kaiser of all people sign a permission form for you to not be on monitor duty last night? No, you are off active duty for the foreseeable future until you get well again."

"I'm not sick!" Shadow Stalker protested angrily.

"Shadow Stalker, you turned in an excuse form with Kaiser as the signatory. You are obviously not feeling well since that signature is a forgery," Director Piggot explained.

"No, it's a real signature. My mom's dating Kaiser now, and…"

"Not to worry, Miss Hess. Both the Chief Director and I agree that you need special counseling. Due to you being a cape, your counseling is of the utmost importance to us to ensure you do not snap and use your powers for evil. As such, you are off active duty until your therapists are convinced you are well enough to resume it."

"My therapists? As in plural?!"

"Yes. And your session starts now. Meet Jessica, Kylie, and Linda. Otherwise known as… the Squees."

The three girls jumped out of the shapes they were hiding in because it was always fun to jump out of nowhere and smother the people that have lost the will to laugh. They jumped over Sophia (literally) and then worked on smother her, but only managed to get her legs. It was enough.

"Don't you worry, girly," instructed Linda.

"We'll get you all good and well again with our power of cuteness!" Kylie beamed.

"Yeah!" agreed Jessica. "We're gonna stamp out all that yucky dark stuff."

"SQUEEEEEEEEEE!" they grinned and squeeed in obvious enjoyment.

Surprising Emily, their squeeing did not hurt her ears this time. She looked at Shadow Stalker and noticed something was off however.

Shadow Stalker… no, Sophia Hess knew something wasn't right. The walls were closing in. She couldn't breathe. She ripped her mask off and took in several deep breaths which ended up as pants. She needed to get away.

Sophia looked at the Director, her eyes pleading as she said, "No, not the Squees." She, like many of the other capes in the country had heard of the triplets. She was understandably horrified, since she had heard of what they could do. And did do.

"I love your hair. It's all dark and curly and stuff. SQUEE!" Kylie hugged Sophia's left leg.

"And I love your outfit, even if it's all dark and yucky. SQUEE!" Linda hugged Sophia's right leg.

"And I love your shoes! They are so sensible! SQUEE!" Jessica hugged Sophia around the waist.

The three Squees broke the individual hugs, looked at one another with the same maniacal grins showing upper and lower teeth touching through thin lips and they all took an inhale. "SQUEE!" they chimed all together for about 15 seconds, showing they did indeed have good breath control.

Sophia rocked back, her hands on her ears. No, not the Squees. Not them, she mentally muttered to get their squeeing noise out of her head.

"You are in great shape, so we will find a dress for you to wear in no time! And squee!" grinned Linda.

"We brought a special Barbie for you. We give all our Barbie dolls names. This one is named… Barbie. Squee!" grinned Jessica.

"It looks just like you! This is going to be great! Let's do a slumber party right now! How about some make-up?! How about a slumber party where we can try out make-up all night long?! SQUEEE!" grinned Kylie.

"That sounds great," agreed Director Piggot. "I think you should all head towards Miss Hess's home as you will be living with her 24/7 until she is better."

"SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" went the triplets followed by a round of giggles.

"In fact, let me order the car brought up so you can all go to her place and get started. And I will get some gummies ordered for you at the same time."

"SQUUUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" went the triplets followed by another round of giggles.

Sophia tried and failed to go to shadow form around them. Anything to get away. And while they did not block her power like a nullifier, it was their cuteness that interfered with her darkness. She took a gulp of air. Then another. She needed to get focused.

"SQUEEEEEE!"

In a daze, Sophia was driven home with the three Squee's with her in the car, totally unaware that the girls were happily eating gummies. She wanted to punch them, but found she just… couldn't. At home, she was dragged up the stairs to her family apartment where she numbly opened the door.

Feeling more equilibrium return, she entered and saw Max at the kitchen table again. And this time the bastard was helping her sister with her homework, or maybe her sister helping with some problem that Max had. She wasn't certain, but she went to her mother.

The triplets ran into the apartment and ran about to look at everything.

"Mom!" Sophia said with emphasis. "You gotta help me."

"What is it, dear?" her mother replied kindly while watching the young girls jump on her couch. The girls noticed Megan and rushed over to her and hugged her legs as well, grinning madly.

"You gotta give these kids the Look. We gotta get rid of them. Give them The Look like you give Max and me, and pretty much everyone these days before they make me puke."

"You mean, giving you a Look like this?" Kylie said for the three of them.

And they give Sophia… the Look. Times three. Only this Look wasn't as intense with darkness and destruction. This look was filled with candy, sugar, unicorns, rainbows, and make-up. Sophia knew this and was revolted in a different manner than when she got that Look from her mother. The sugar and spice, all that made a girl nice… NO!

Sophia went down to a knee and took in more gulps of air. She ran various mantras through her mind to clear up the sugary unicorns! History videos that showed tanks firing round after round. Yes. Running. Jumping. Climbing. Her thoughts spanning to globe to bring the constant variety of sport… the thrill of victory… and the agony of defeat… the human drama of athletic competition. Yeah. That was what she needed. Competition. She blinked her eyes to force the sugary unicorns wearing rainbows to go away.

While Sophia struggled to come to grips with her thoughts, her mother went from looking at her eldest daughter to the trio of girls around her daughter.

"Ladies," she began. "What did you three just do?"

"Oh, we just gave her… The Look," replied the girl that Megan would learn was Linda.

"Uh-oh," Max said with real dread. "There's more of them."

"Hmm," said Megan. "You know, I don't really know what that comprises of. Do you mind doing that to me so I know what is going on?"

"Okay!" Kylie answered for them. They turned to Megan and gave her… The Look.

Megan's world exploded into smiles and happy people. Parents hugged their children. Children hugged their toys. Parents read to their kids. Parents played with their kids. There was much smiling, and singing, and for some strange reason, Barbie dolls.

The triplets stopped… The Look which allowed Megan to look at them. She went to a knee as well, a tear in her eye and pulled Jessica into a hug first. Jessica hugged her back.

"You understand it?!" questioned Linda as she was next to be pulled into a hug.

"Of course I do, you wonderful girls. Now you give me another hug," she ordered playfully, grabbing Kylie into the massive hug.

"SQUEEE!" they all but cheered while Megan Hess hugged them silly. A few minutes later they stopped, broke apart and the three Squees began to smother Sophia with more girly hugs and pulls on her mostly-unresisting hands as they wanted to see her room.

"What just happened?" Max wondered aloud from the kitchen table.

"The Squee sisters are going to make Sophia into a girl again," Sophia's sister, Suze Hess (an avid PHO junkie even in the 3rd grade) pointed out. "About damn time."

"Oh. That's okay then," Max agreed.

Megan looked towards where Sophia's room was and said, "I think so too. We might have to do something similar for Brad."

"You may be right. Melody is none too happy with him these days for some reason," Max replied, happy to be away from that complex 3rd Grade math.

"You don't know?" Megan arched an eyebrow towards him.

"I try not to intrude in people's lives these days," Max said honestly (for once).

"He got her pregnant," Megan said simply.

"The _Dickens_ you say! Really?"

"I kid you not. That is how I got her job. Everyone in the office knows."

Max rubbed his chin in thought. "I'll need to talk to him then. No one should leave a child."

"Good answer, Max. You just might get lucky tonight."

"Lucky how?" Suze asked her mother.

"Never you mind," instructed her mother.

"Lucky with a scratch game?" Suze suggested.

"Sure. Let's go with that," Megan agreed.

In the distance was heard, "SQUEEEE!"

A deeper voice started, "SQUE… Dammit!"

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Uber and Leet's hidden base. 9:11am, Saturday, February 19** **th** **, 2011.**

H&T were micro-muscular-miniatures of their impressive selves when they showed up on Uber's shoulders.

"Hiya, Uber," H said.

"Whatcha' doing?" T followed up after popping into existence on Uber's other shoulder.

"Hey, guys," Uber returned while spinning the longstaff expertly in his hands. "Just doing some exercises with a big stick. Never know when you might need it."

"Excellent idea," H approved.

"Yeah. You might need to beat the women off with a stick if they smother you, right?" T added. "Speaking of women, where are all of them? I thought _we_ , and by that I mean _you_ , agreed you were going to get laid."

"Yeah," Uber hedged. "That didn't work out so good."

"Why the hell not? Didn't you try any of the lines we gave you?" T was confused.

"Uh," Uber hedged again.

"You didn't use them?!" T was not about to let him get away with not answering.

"Uh… not really. I mean, sure I wanted to go up to a hot chick and tell her I had a nine-inch pleasure rod, but when I was about to do that… the shyness of when I'm out of costume came back. I mean, when I'm Uber, I'm cool. But when I'm not Uber? Forget it. I'm just a nobody like I was in high school."

H rubbed his chin in thought, then said, "What you need is a dose of confidence."

"No kidding," Uber replied, shattering the imaginary opponent's nose with the staff.

"What H means to say is: get Leet to create a weapon that shoots a dose of confidence at you," T clarified.

Uber stopped his incessant whacking of the imaginary opponents and looked at H and T. "Guys? You've seen what he makes, right? Those things tend to blow up more often than not."

"Of course we've seen what he makes. Why do you think we're here? You have what he needs to remember how Tinkertech actually works."

"Guys, you know I'm into girls, right? Not dudes."

T waved the comment away. "Oh, ha-ha, big guy. Just roll up your sleeves and get ready."

"Oh, Uber, your face is priceless," H laughed. "What T mean to say is: roll up your sleeves and get ready to do some work. Leet's ability is based off a cosmic shard which is misaligned in his noggin. That means you need to nudge it back in place."

"And how am I supposed to do that?" Uber queried, unsure what a cosmic shard was.

"Drunken Monkey combined with Pilates," T stated.

"That's all?"

"Nope. You're going to need a rock as well. Not too big. About 10cm round rock at about 85 grams. Cupped in your hand," H instructed.

"Then it's kick, stretch, and kick again. Directly above left ear tip about 5cm," T followed up.

"And this will fix his cosmic shard?"

H looked at T and then back to Uber. "Yeah. Sure. Let's go with that."

"Okay, say I do kick, stretch, and kick again. What's the rock for?"

"It's your alibi," H pointed out. "Say a rock fell and hit him when he wakes. Show him the rock and you're golden."

"Hmm. Okay. Sounds plausible. One problem. How am I going to get him to let me do that?" Uber asked while warming up to the whole idea.

"Honestly. Have you never heard of porn? Surprise him with a Bouncing Boob issue. There's a few magazines down at the local store as we speak," T said with some impatience.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Johnson's Groceries & More, 7** **th** **Ave and 3** **rd** **Street. 10:11am, Saturday, February 19** **th** **, 2011.**

A morose Leet entered Johnson's store, which ironically was owned by MacGruber MacGyver since Estelle Johnson died a decade earlier. Leet was morose, as usual, due to his lack of having anything meaningful in either: 1) a job that paid him a boatload of money, and 2) a relationship where he could get laid like his guardian angels suggested.

His bro took off an hour ago on an errand and Leet, ever the practical one he reminded himself, had left their hidden lair sans costume, and instead dressed as his usual pre-cape days. It was good that he was still skinny as his clothes still fit and he didn't have money to replace them with. Guess lack of eating would do that. Damn people not buying their online crap.

Leet grabbed a tiny buggy on three (not four any longer) wheels and headed down the aisle that had the least smell of spoiled cheese. Oddly enough, it was the deli aisle and contained fresh meats, fresh breads, and cheese.

Leet quickly noticed that prices had risen by a dime on most items. Unfortunately, the deli aisle was populated by a couple old geezers who appeared to be arguing over the merits of purchasing a can of corn that was now ten cents more.

Leet groaned inwardly as the two blocked the aisle. Deli case and cold shelf on one side, and cans on metal shelves on the other. Two old guys. Tall geezer had long thinning white hair that surrounded an oval face and a large nose. Blue eyes were mostly hidden by thick glasses and bushy white eyebrows. When he spoke to the other man, Leet saw tall geezer's yellowish, crooked teeth under a white, bushy moustache.

The second old geezer was a bit shorter than Leet, had next to no hair, no facial hair to hide behind other than a white goatee, and didn't have yellowish, crooked teeth. Instead he had blazing white teeth which Leet knew instantly were dentures. Jeez. Leet just wanted to get by them, get some cans of beans for his and Uber's dinner, and check out.

Leet ignored the two men in their slacks and button-up shirts that were new about three decades earlier, and inspected cans on the shelf if only to further ignore the two men. He couldn't help, however, hearing them since they didn't have a filter to know they were talking loud. As in, really loud.

Tall geezer looked at the can of corn in his hand and loudly said to his friend, "Why in my day, a can of corn existed in tin, not this piece of crap."

Shorter geezer replied, "It's not a piece of crap! It's just a mixture of zinc and aluminum."

"It's the damn coefficient of the metal that's what I'm talking about," snarled tall geezer.

"Ah, g'wan. It's got bells on it already. Next thing you're gonna tell me is that all tinkertech is the same," shorter geezer waved his hand in frustration.

Wait. What?

"Not at all. With the temperature ratios of where Tinkers work and the metals within an environmental geosphere that contains… cool it. Some snot-nosed kid is listening in. Just ramble until he goes away."

"Roger," replied shorter geezer. "Why in my day, clothes were fashionable! Disco rules!"

"Very funny, guys. What's going on?" Leet said as he invaded their personal space.

"Get lost, sonny, before I fry what brain cells you still have left," wheezed out tall geezer as he pulled out a pen with a clicker on it. The pen itself might have worked, but Leet was pretty sure the power diodes connected to the clicker was not something he wanted to experience.

"You guys are tinkers?!" Leet was amazed.

Both old guys put fingers to their lips and shorter geezer ordered, "Shhh! Jeez! You want us picked up by a gang?! Shut up already."

"But I'm a tinker too," Leet pressed, although in a quieter voice.

"Yeah, sure. Name one thing you've invented," suggested the smaller geezer.

"I created the Receiptinator," Leet stated of his more recent public invention.

Short guy nodded and said, "I heard of that. Didn't that suck up every loose receipt from a 500-meter radius, tie them together, and turn it into toilet paper which was then used to wrap around trees?"

"Yes," Leet smiled, happy for the recognition.

"Lame-o," said tall geezer with no talent.

"It's not lame," Leet replied.

"You're Leet since you made that fun-gun. What happened to it?" tall guy wanted to know.

Leet deflated. "…it blew up."

"Hah!" chortled the smaller geezer tinker. "Yep. You're Leet. You shoulda recalibrated the power feeds to resonate out the feedback. Anyway, later! Let's get out of here, Mel."

They were leaving already? "Oh, c'mon. I'm not that bad!"

"Ah for the luva… What do you want, kid?" Mel the older geezer with no talent asked.

"I need some help. I'm tired of things blowing up on me," Leet said with as much sincerity as he could muster, which was quite a lot since he was sincere in not having his devices blow up on him any longer. Or more importantly, not blow up in his face.

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Location: Uber and Leet's hidden base. 11:11am, Saturday, February 19** **th** **, 2011.**

H&T popped into existence on Leet's shoulders, and nearly fell off since he was slumped forward, both elbows on the knees, and one hand holding his forehead from falling and crashing into the ground.

"What the?" T began, and then noticed Leet looked as he had been… crying. Good thing it wasn't baseball season, T knew.

H looked at T and T looked back at H, both wearing mini-versions of Leet's face and costume.

"Dude," H said softly. "What's wrong?"

Leet looked up at H, his eyes red-rimmed. He took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and said, "I met some people today."

"Whoa, dude! What's her name?" H smiled for the tinker.

"Esmeralda."

"Is she pretty?" T asked in Leet's voice, as if his voice would sound if he sucked down helium. And since he had done that, yes, he knew what that voice sounded like.

"How should I know? She's like a hundred years old!" Leet ground out in a strained voice.

"Dude, I know you haven't scored with a woman in like, ever. But going after a woman a century old? I think you can set your sights to a younger woman. Got for someone in her 70's," H suggested.

"Maybe 60's," T added.

"Maybe even bag yourself a cougar," H hoped.

Leet shook his head. "Yeah, yeah. Look, guys. Earlier today I met Esmerelda la Gypsy, Jethro Bodine, Alice Hyatt, Elly-May Clampett, Mel Sharples, Dwayne Schnider, and Marion Ross."

"Wow. Aren't you the kinky one," H nudged Leet with a micro-elbow.

"Ha, ha. No, this group I met. It's not sex, okay? They are all tinkers."

"There's more tinkers in Brockton Bay?" That was news to T.

"Hell yeah. They are all tinkers who can recall everything. And I mean, everything. How to make a remote. How the internet works. How to program a VCR. How to build a Von-Q Disposer to get rid of errant asteroids. Anything."

"Wow. So what have they built?" That was good news to T.

"Nothing," Leet said. "They have the smarts but no dexterity, strength, or resources to build anything. They live in an old folks' home. And before you ask, I don't think they were tinkers before going to the home. So make sure I never go to one, okay?"

"We can do that," H grinned in agreement.

"But getting back to the tinkers you met," T focused them back on course. "What happened?"

"Well, I offered to help them to get their tinkering done if they help me first."

"And by help," H began. "You mean help you stop having your inventions blow up."

"Yeah," Leet nodded in agreement, his expression turning pained.

"Sounds good. So what's with the frowny face?" T inquired.

Leet took in another breath and let it out slowly. "The Elder Brigade gave me a trial run to build one thing to see how well I do."

"…okay? And?" H prompted.

"And the first… sob," he began. "First thing I have to build is: a self-cleaning catheter."

"Whoa! Invasive!" T sounded alarmed.

Leet sobbed some more and replied, "Yes! And they gave me strict test protocols. I am the subject of those. Oh god! What can I do? I need to get my tinkertech working once and for all."

"Well, you know…" H began conspiratoriously.

"We overheard a plan of Uber to help you with your tinker problem," T winked at the young tinker.

"Yeah?" Leet looked for any lifeline.

"It involves a porn magazine," T winked at the tinker.

"I'm liking this more and more," Leet's future was looking up.

Meanwhile, as the future sounded more promising to Leet, Uber was happy that a plan was in place to fix his pal's shard, whatever that was. He had spent a few hours perusing a certain magazine shelf that only adults could view and was now ready to fix Leet's problems as only he could. Wait. That came out wrong, he thought. Ah! He was ready to totally fix his pal's… no, wait. Still wrong. Ah! He was ready to kick someone in the head! That was better.

"Yo, bro!" Uber grinned as he came in the door to their super cool hidden lair which was not a basement apartment no matter what others might say.

Leet turned around from his sitting position on the couch. Uber was oblivious to H&T on Leet's shoulders.

"Dude! Read this! And turn around while I stretch," Uber handed him a magazine in a brown bag.

"You got it, bro!" Leet opened the bag and exclaimed, "Whoa! Bouncing Boobs! I love that magazine!"

WHACK!

 **-oo00oo-**

 **Author comments:**

As usual, this story arc has a mind of its own and has grown bigger yet again.

I do have an idea of how this story will end. Really. I promise.

Leaving reviews does get me motivated to write more. Just saying…


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